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I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 






No. 



.$71 



•§ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 




Y/f:/ 



THE 



DANGERS OF THE COUNTRY. 



BY 

THE AUTHOR OF WAR IN DISGUISE. 



THE SECOND EDITION. 



5 LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR J. BUTTERWORTH, FLEET-STREET, 
AND J. HATCHARD, PICCADILLY. 

1807. 






| THE UBR AR . y| 



fisted »y K. Edwards, Crane Court, fleet Street. 



To the Right Honourable 

LORD GRENVILLE. 

MY LQKD, 

IN dedicating the following Work to your 
Lordship, as I presume without your permis- 
sion to do, I am actuated by no ordinary, and 
I trust no censurable motive. 

Having been impressed with sentiments of 
respect and admiration by your Lordship^s 
conduct during the last Parliament, in pro- 
posing and effecting the Abolition of the Slave 
Trade, I have wished for some opportunity of 
" mbhcly expressing those feelings ; and as that 
i/ise and noble measure was recommended with 
much anxiety in the former edition of 
this work, it seems to me, that a grateful ad- 
dress to your Lordship may not indecorously 
be substituted in the present, for those painful 
statements and reflections which, through the 
success of your generous efforts, I am enabled 
.iow to omit. 

To Lord Grenville, much more than to any 
other public character, Mr. Vv ilberforce only 
excepted, the nation is indebted for its de~ 
fverance from that horrible traffic. 

Many eminent men indeed of different 

jties contributed, like your Lordship, the 
A3 ^ 



IV DEDICATION. 



full weight of their talents and interest to the 
attainment of the same honourable end ; 
and I most heartily concur in the applause 
which they have deserved and obtained from 
the nation at large ; but it was your Lordship's 
felicity to possess, and your praise zealously 
to employ, means of promoting the measure, 
in comparison with which, the utmost exer- 
tions of others were inefficacious, and without 
which they would not have prevailed. The 
weight of high official and personal influence, 
the force of a manly and dignified eloquence,' 
were not your only contributions to the inte- 
resting cause. You added to them a clear 
and comprehensive knowledge of the sub- 
ject ; and what perhaps was more important 
than all the rest, a public character, the known 
virtues of which were peculiarly well calcu- 
lated to repel some unhappy prepossessions 
by which the Abolition had long been re.r 
sisted in the Upper House of Parliament. 

Nor should it be forgotten that Lord Gren- 
ville was a much older, as well more powerful, 
patron of the cause, than most of those, by 
whose united endeavours it at length happily 
triumphed. Your Lordship was indeed one of 
its earliest friends : and above eight years ago 
I witnessed at the bar of the House of Peers, 
your very able, earnest, and persevering efforts, 
to develope the enormities of the Slave Trade, 



DEDICATION. * 

and to persuade their Lordships, at least, 
to circumscribe the ravages of a monster which 
they would not immediately cut off, Happy 
had it been for the British Colonies, and the 
commercial interests of the Empire at large, 
as well as for Africa, if your endeavours had 
sooner succeeded '*, but you declared to the 

# Let those who have hitherto supposed this trade to 
have been beneficial to our colonies, read the late Report 
of a Committee of the House of Commons on the Com- 
mercial State of the West Indies, printed by order of the 
House in Julv last. 

They may there trace some of the ruinous effects of the vast 
extension of sugar planting, by means of the British Slave 
Trade, in our own and foreign colonies : mischiefs now 
not easy to be repaired, but which clearly would have been 
prevented, if that vile traffic had been abolished in 1792. 

The framers of that Report indeed attribute much of 
the evil, to the permission of a commerce falsely called 
neutral, which gives to the hostile colonies most unfair 
advantages over our own in the continental markets of 
Europe; and the complaints which our Colonists make on 
that score are indisputably just ; but in a different view 
from that which seems to have been taken of the subject 
in the Committee. That most impolitic relaxation of our 
belligerent rights, which has taken place during the last 
and present war, has not, properly speaking, been the 
cause of the evils in question, but has deprived our 
planters of a temporary remedy for them, which the war, 
if rightly conclueted, vvould certainly have given. The pro^ 
tection of the colonial trade of our enemies bv neutral flasrs- 
has been the cause of the mischief, only in the same sense 
in which a man who should unlawfully arrest a surgeon 
might be said to have caused the death of a plethoric and 
poplectic patient whom he vyas hastening to bleed, 



yi BlBlGATIOtf. 

House, even in the moment of defeat, that 
the suppression of that detestable commerce 
was an object which you would never aban- 
don, and the promise has been nobly per- 
formed. 

Let me add, that the friends of religion and 
virtue are much indebted to your Lordship, not 
only for what you have done in that interesting 
cause, but for your manner of doing it. Though 
there never was a national crime more impolitic 
than the Slave Trade, and though no man ever 
demonstrated its impolicy more clearly than 
your Lordship, your favourite topics were those 
sacred duties which some men seem afraid 
of laying any stress upon in State affairs, lest 
their feelings should be thought to warp their 
political judgments. In your very able and 
eloquent arguments on this subject you most 
anxiously asserted the sacred obligations of 
justice and humanity, as paramount to every 
consideration of national interest which might 
be thought to oppose them ; though you justly 
refused to admit, that in this or any case, such 

It is demonstrable even from the Report itself, that our 
Colonies are mined, because the supply of sugar from the 
West Indies is too large and too costly for the consumption 
of Europe ; and this is an evil which, in spite of the ruin 
of St. Domingo, our own perverse adherence to, and enor- 
mous extension of the Slave Trade has chiefly occasioned. 
But the subject is too wide and too important to be fully 
explained in this place. 



DEBICATION. VU 

an opposition could really be found. — You de- 
manded the Abolition on principles that made 
it an oblation to Heaven, as well as a blessing 
to mankind. 

Accept then this feeble testimony of re- 
spect from one, who though not worthy to be 
your Lordship's eulogist, is not mean enough 
to be a flatterer ; but who would feel it on this 
occasion ungrateful to be silent. He took so 
lively an interest in that great cause, and be* 
lieyed its success so essential to the salvation 
of our country, that he owes to you, and its 
other patrons, an increase of his hopes as an 
Englishman, and his happiness as a man. 

I have the honour to be, 

Very respectfully and truly, 

My Lord, 

Your Lordship's most obedient servant, 

THE AUTHOR, 

November 10th, 180?. 



PREFACE. 



M. 



.ANY and important changes have varied our 
political prospects since this work was first 
published. 

A gleam of hope had tfeen suddenly arisen in 
Poland, and elated the public mind so highly, as 
almost to deter the Author, confident of its evan- 
escence though he was, from promulging his 
anxious speculations. * The delusive meteor con- 
tinued in some degree to chear us through the 
winter, and even brightened for a while over the 
dreadful field of Eyiau, but has at length finally 
vanished, and left us in aggravated darkness. 

Those remnants of the ancient bulwarks of Eu- 
rope which had escaped the overwhelming shocks 
of Austerlitz and Auerstadt, have been laid pros- 
trate in the plains of Fnedland ; and the treaty of 
Tilsit has finished the triumph of France over 
every continental enemy, by whom the fatal march 
of her ambition could be for a moment arrested. 

Thanks to a benignant Providence, this much- 
favoured land is yet unsubdued. There is still a 
corner of the old world, in which loyalty and free- 
dom possess a seat and an asylum, in spite of the 
power of Prance, and the indignation of her tyrant. 

But are the dangers which menaced our country 
in January last, no longer real and imminent ? If 

f See the Advertisement prefixed to the first Edition, 



3C t»RSFACE. 

there be an Englishman who, in the contemplation' 
of visible causes alone, holds such an opinion, he 
is one whom I hope not to convince, for I cannot 
penetrate the sources, or comprehend the nature 
of so strange a delusion* 

There is indeed, on the Author's views, one great 
and most encouraging melioration of our prospects, 
in the late improvement^ our national morals. 
That reformation which he most anxiously recom- 
mended has happily taken place; — the impious 
Slave Trade is abolished by law; and we have, 
therefore, far less reason than before to dread the 
vengeance of a retributory Providence, which, to 
his mind, was the greatest subject of alarm. * But 

* A respectable Critic, personally unknown to the Author, but 
who is very obligingly partial to him, upon principles of which an 
Englishman need not be ashamed, objects strongly to that part of 
the former edition in which this topic was discussed, and seems to 
regard the subsequent progress of events as a practical refutation of 
the opinions therein maintained, because though the Slave Tradfi 
has been abolished, the fortunes of the country have since changed 
for the worse, not for the better, f 

To this argument it may in the first place be replied, that 
through perseverance in a sin, the supposed subject of judicial 
chastisement, may be reasonably expected to be followed by a 
continuance or increase of die penal infliction j the converse can 
by no means be universally inferred, either from the Divine jus- 
tice or mercy. If there be any analogy between the moral go- 
vernment of God and that of man, or if there be any truth in 
those conceptions of the ways of Providence which religion, na- 
tural and revealed, has impressed upon us, its scourge is some- 
times inflicted for past offences, after they have been repented of 
and forsaken. 

It might further be replied, that the Slave Trade, though by 

f Anti-Jacobin Review for August, 1S07. 



PREFACE. XI 

they who do not raise their eyes above second 
causes, or who regard those alone as fit subjects of 
political calculation, will rind it hard to deny that 
the dangers of the country have, since the follow^ 
ing pages first issued from the press, been rather 
increased than diminished. If, therefore, the 
work had any fair promise of public utility at that 
period, it is not likely to be wholly unimportant at 
the present. 

The Author, however, has long deferred this 
republication, though a new edition of the pamph- 
let has been much in request, from a doubt whether 
great alterations and additions ought not to be 
made, in order the better to adapt his remarks and 
practical suggestions to the existing state of the 
country. 

The measure of reform, the duty of which he had 
laboured to demonstrate, having been adopted by 
the Legislature, it was evident that a considerable 

far the greatest, was not the only sin with which our country 
was chargeable. 

But there is a third solution of the difficulty started by the 
able and patriotic Reviewer, which, I trust, may e'er long prove, 
in every sense, the most satisfactory. The events which have 
occurred since the Act for the Abolition of the Slave Trade, have 
been adverse chiefly in respect of their apparent tendency to in- 
crease our national perils : and that tendency may not perhaps be 
decisive, or finally unpropitious. The horizon, I admit, has ga* 
thered deeper blackness, bat the thunder has not burst upon us ; 
and who knows but it may be the will of heaven yet to avert the 
seemingly-impending storm, to bring to nought in a way unpre- 
meditated by man, the power of our impious enemy, and to sig- 
nalize the more our tiiial deliverance by the extremity of the pre- 
vious danger. 



Xll PREFACE. 

part of the pamphlet had bow become useless, and 
aught to be omitted. Other changes in public 
affairs, both domestic and foreign, seemed also to 
require correspondent alterations or additions. 
But in considering how to expunge from the work 
what .iad become obsolete, and iiow to engraft on 
it such new reflections on our interior and exterior 
policy as seemed important to his general object, 
the Author found it would be difficult, or impos- 
sible, to maintain that perfect neutrality between 
the contending political parties in the state, which 
was an essential part of his plan. 

To remark, for instance, upon the late measures 
of national defence, or the conduct of the war, was 
to advance in a country occupied in every direc- 
tion, by the enmities, and the jealousies of party: 
and to alter what he had formerly said on these or 
other subjects, connected as come of them are with 
points supposed to be in difference between the late 
and the present Administration, was a work of still 
greater delicacy. It was to risque the imputation, 
not only of party-spirit, but perhaps also of a 
time-serving policy. 

To be deterred from the pursuit of public utility 
by the fear of obloquy, or of giving umbrage to any 
party, would indeed be unmanly and pusillanimous. 
But in a work which appeals to the common feelings 
of Englishmen on the momentous and interesting 
subject of our national dangers, it is necessary to 
stand on ground as broad as the country itself ; 
for to incur the suspicion of party-spirited views, 



PREFACE, xili 

livould be greatly to diminish the chance of being 
useful. 

The Author therefore has, after much hesita- 
tion, relinquished the purpose of altering his 
pamphlet; except by omitting the last section, 
comprising sixty-four pages of the former edi- 
tion, which related solely to the Slave Trade. 
These could not now in general be read with any 
interest ; but should any purchaser of the present 
edition wish to add to it that part of the work, it 
may still be obtained, having been published in a 
separate pamphlet, under the title of cc New Rea- 
sons for Abolishing the Slave Trade," some copies 
of which remain unsold. 

The rest of the work, a few verbal corrections 
of the stile excepted, appears again in its original 
form, though several of the remarks or allusions 
contained in it are no longer apposite, and if not 
retrospectively applied by the Reader, may seem 
to relate to characters and situations different 
from those which were really designed. 

In thus consulting prudence or delicacy, how- 
ever, the Author is not at liberty to violate justice. 

Soon after the pamphlet first appeared, he was 
assured, from good authority, that his general 
remark in page 75, as to the language held in 
Parliament by the leading Members of the late 
Opposition, on the important question of treating 
for peace with France, was erroneous ; for that at 
least one of those leaders, now his Majesty's prin- 
cipal Secretary of State for the Foreign Depart- 
ment, had always maintained the impossibility of 



S17 PREFACE. 



any safe pacification, and the necessity of reso- 
lutely prosecuting the war, on views similar to 
those entertained by the Author himself. Indeed 
the opinions of Mr. Canning on that very im- 
portant subject, were so clearly as well as power- 
fully stated in his speech on the conduct of the 
Negotiation with France, published soon after the 
first edition of this work* that the Author could 
not read that publication without seeing and re- 
gretting his mistake. 

He therefore feels it a duty not to republish the 
remark in question without confessing, that whe^ 
ther generally just or not, it was, as far as respects 
Mr. Canning, incorrect in point of fact. 



ADVERTISEMENT 

TO THE FIRST EDITION. 



1 HE first part of this Pamphlet was written, 
and partly sent to press, soon after the ruin of 
the Prussian army was certainly known in 
England; and when we supposed ourselves 
to be again left alone in the war ; a conjunc- 
ture, at which the feelings of the Public, as 
to the perils of our situation, were probably 
much more in unison than now, with those of 
the Author. At present, perhaps, a propo- 
sition which he has assumed, viz. that the 
danger of an invasion, though very indis- 
tinctly and inadequately conceived, is univer- 
sally admitted to exist, may be far from the 
truth. But he deems it, on this account, 
only the more neeessary, to raise his feeble 
voice against the indifference and supineness 
which prevail in regard to our public defence ; 
since the apprehension of immediate danger 
no longer tends to correct these faults, and 
they may, by a false sense of security, be fa- 
tally confirmed. 



XVI ADVERTISEMENT. 

May the next news from the seat of cohti-* 
nental war, be of a kind to diminish further the 
apparent importance of his labours ! But, in 
his estimate, our danger from the power of 
France was never more serious and. imminent 
than at the present moment. 

January 21, 1807. 






THE 



DANGERS OF THE COUNTRY. 



. Sect. 1. We may be conquered by France. 

IN the revolutions which overthrow the power and the 
independency of nations, there is nothing more asto- 
nishing than the extreme improvidence which some- 
times prepares their fall. Let us mark in the page of 
history the periods which immediately preceded the 
subjugation of Greece, by Philip and Alexander, the 
dreadful overthrow of Carthage, by Rome, and of 
Rome herself by the Barbarians, and we shall perceive 
that their fate was long very visibly approaching, that 
it might probably have been averted by vigour and 
prudence, but that the devoted nations strangely ne- 
glected the obvious means of self-preservation, till the 
opportunity of using them was lost. 

How deplorably does the age we live in abound with 
similar cases ! 

Nations, however, like individuals, seem rarely to 
take warning from the fatal errors of each other. Such 
wisdom is indeed cheaply bought, but not so cheaply 
reduced into practice j for the measures of preventive 
prudence generally demand some renunciation of pre- 

B 



XVi ADVERTISEMENT. 

May the next news from the seat of cofiti-* 
nental war, be of a kind to diminish farther the 
apparent importance of his labours ! But, in 
his estimate, our danger from the power of 
France was never more serious and. imminent 
than at the present moment. 

January 21, 1807. 



THE 



DANGERS OF THE COUNTRY. 



. Sect. 1 . We may be conquered by France. 

IN the revolutions which overthrow the power and the 
independency of nations, there is nothing more asto- 
nishing than the extreme improvidence which some- 
times prepares their fall. Let us mark in the page of 
history the periods which immediately preceded the 
subjugation of Greece, by Philip and Alexander, the 
dreadful overthrow of Carthage, by Rome, and of 
Rome herself by the Barbarians, and we shall perceive 
that their fate was long very visibly approaching, that 
it might probably have been averted by vigour and 
prudence, but that the devoted nations strangely ne- 
glected the obvious means of self-preservation, till the 
opportunity of using them was lost. 

How deplorably does the age we live in abound with 
similar cases ! 

Nations, however, like individuals, seem rarely to 
take warning from the fatal errors of each other. Such 
wisdom is indeed cheaply bought, but not so cheaply 
reduced into practice; for the measures of preventive 
prudence generally demand some renunciation of pre- 

B 



2 

sent ease, or apparent advantage. It is easy to see 
what timely sacrifices others should have made to avoid 
impending ruin. It is not so easy to make those neces- 
sary sacrifices ourselves. . 

Besides, there seems to be an unaccountable preju- 
dice, a sense of inextinguishable vitality, in the body 
politic as well as natural, which cheats us into a per- 
suasion, that whatever may have befallen others in 
similar circumstances, our own existence is secure. 

" All men think all men mortal but themselves. " 

The same may be said of nations ; and the delusion 
perhaps is still stronger with them, than with indi- 
viduals. 

It seems impossible upon any other principles than 
these, to account for the apathy of the British public 
at the present most tremendous crisis. The torrent of 
French ambition, has now washed away every mound 
that opposed it on the Continent. We stand as on a 
little spot of elevated ground, surrounded with inunda- 
tions; and while the waters are still rising on every 
side, and rapidly undermining our base, we look on 
with stupid indifference, or torpid inactivity, heedless 
of the means by which safety might be still attained.* 

These strictures I hope are not now applicable to 
those with whom the Government of the Country is 
intrusted — Measures are probably preparing in the 
Cabinet such as our perilous situation demands: but 

* The reader is desired to observe, that the pamphlet' is re- 
published to the end of the third Section of Part II. precisely 
as it first appeared in January, 1807, with the exception only of 
typographical, and a few grammatical corrections. — See the pre- 
face to this edition. 

7 



the people at large are not sufficiently awake to the 
tremendous evils which menace them, and the duties 
to which they are called. 

A sufficient proof of this might be found in the 
spirit of personal and party rivalship, which has abound- 
ed in our late Parliamentary elections, and in that ex- 
clusive attention which they excited throughout the 
Country at large. 

Never in the present reign did the choice of a new 
Parliament produce a greater number of obstinate con- 
tests, and never were important national questions less 
generally involved in the rivalship of contending can- 
didates; yet when has the public mind been more 
closely intent on the concerns of a general election ? 
It must have been obvious to every cairn observer, that 
the combats of the hustings had more interest than 
the battles in Saxony, that the state of the poll was the 
subject of more anxiety than the advance of the Rus- 
sians, and the subversions of thrones, events of less 
concern than the rejection cf a favourite candidate. 

Could this disposition be resolved into' a magnani- 
mous contempt of danger, it might perhaps be deemed 
a feature of national character by no means of evil 
omen. The Spartans, on the eve of the battle of Ther- 
mopylae, were seen combing their long hair, and indulg- 
ing in their usual amusements. But this construction 
of the public feelings, though complimentary, would 
not be just. The dangers of the Country I fear have 
not been so much despised, as forgotten ; and the pa- 
triotic emotions which the conjuncture ought to in- 
spire, have been superseded by the nearer interest of 
Borough or Provincial politics. 

fi 2 



This, however, is by no means the only indication 
of popular insensibility to the present dapgers of the 
Country. 

Have pride, dissipation, or luxury, contracted in any 
degree their accustomed range, or are their votaries less 
intent than before on their favourite pleasures? Has 
the civil war of parties been suspended; or have we in 
earnest begun to make our peace with a chastising 
Providence, by religious and moral reformation? 

The Nations, of antiquity, while they possessed their 
freedom, that true source of patriotic feeling, were 
neither too gay to mourn, too luxurious to retrench, 
too factious to unite, nor too proud to repent and pray, 
in seasons of public danger. A situation like our own, 
at Sparta, at Athens, or at Rome, in their best days, 
would have been marked by gravity and mourning, by 
a suspension of civil feuds, by an emulation in every 
species of private sacrifice to the public service, and by 
such propitiations as their religion taught them to 
offer, to their offended Gods. The most distant danger 
from a foreign enemy, united every Roman in a gene- 
rous self devotion to the State. The rich remitted 
their exactions, the poor renounced their complaints; 
the Patrician forgot his pride, the Plebeian his factious 
discontent, the Tribune his mob-importance, the Sena- 
tors their mutual discord. If the assault or defiance 
of an enemy found them in the heat of civil commo- 
tions, it in a moment put an end to the strife : If the 
people were drawn up by their demagogues on the 
Jdons sacer, their citadel of sedition, they descended 
without delay to the Campus Martins, and crowded 
to be enrolled for the military service of their Country, 



We admire this spirit; we perceive in it one great 
cause of the long conservation of Roman freedom, 
and an essential basis of Roman greatness. — Yet 
what have Romans, Grecians, or any other people 
ancient or modern, had to attach them to their Coun- 
try, compared with the social blessings of these much 
favoured Islands ? The Sun, in six thousand years, has 
beheld no human beings so happy in their civil con- 
dition as ourselves ; has enlightened no land which its 
inhabitants had so vast an interest in defending as 
Great Britain. 

Whence then that indifference, that strange defect 
at least of patriotic zeal and exertion, which marks this 
arduous crisis ? 

It cannot be the effect of a rational confidence in 
our security, for who is there now that does not admit 
the Country to be in danger ? 

The absurd opinion that England cannot be invaded 

a. O 

while we have an invincible fleet, is now rejected by 
every intelligent man, as it always was by men of nau- 
tical knowledge; and the Government itself has long 
since practically admitted, by various costly prepara- 
tions for our interior defence, that a powerful descent 
on our shores is no impossible event. 

Those who formerly thought such an enterprize im- 
practicable, must have rested their opinion on the 
extreme depression of the French Marine. But from 
this state it has already begun to recover, and there 
can be no doubt that unless the enemy should be rash 
enough to expose himself to new Trafalgars, his 
navy will rapidly increase. When we consider the 
large acquisitions of ships of all kinds, of naval maga- 



zines, of forests ripe for the axe, of excellent docks* 
and harbours, and even of able seamen, which France 
has unhappily made by conquest during the two last 
campaigns ; and when we regard her as mistress of all 
the coasts of continental Europe, from the bottom of 
the Adriatic Gulph to the straights of Gibraltar, and 
from Cape Finisterre to the Baltic, it would be idle 
indeed to suppose that the disparity of her naval power 
to that of the British islands, will long continue to be 
great. 

But even a very inferior fleet to our own, might as 
I shall hereafter shew, give her ample means of in- 
vasion. 

That an invading army would infallibly be repelled 
by the force we at present possess on shore, is a per- 
suasion that may still be too general, yet can hardly 
now maintain its ground in well informed and consi- 
derate minds. — It must at least be greatly weakened, 
if not removed, by the late tremendous events on the 
Continent. 

Are we proudly confident in our military prowess? 
So were the renowned battalions of Frederick the 
Great. — The Prussians marched from Berlin as to a 
certain triumph. Intelligent English gentlemen who 
were there at the moment, declare that the general 
confidence was extreme; that it was impossible to make 
the most rational Prussians with whom they conversed, 
admit a doubt of the victorious armies of France being 
defeated by the Prussian tactics : and that to suggest 
any uneasiness on the subject, was regarded as prepos- 
terous at least, if not insulting. 

Yet where is now that mighty army that was drawn 



r 

up by the veteran Generals of Prussia in the plain of 
Auerstadt ? Dispersed, as with the impetuous breath 
of a whirlwind., or rather the blast of an explosion, its 
scattered fragments were soon to be found only on the 
shores of the Baltic j and even there were gathered up 
by its enemies. 

The mendacious vanity of the victors here found no 
place for exaggeration. — It was strict truth to say that 
a late mighty Monarch, flying from the throne of his 
ancestors across the Oder and the Vistula, carried with 
him only a handful of Guards from the great army which 
he lately commanded, and that with this exception, 
not a man of that vast host, escaped. Neither the 
defeat of Darius at Arbela, or any other victory by 
which Empires have been overthrown, was in this 
respect half so disastrous. 

Where has since been found the proper reserve of re- 
gulars, or of Citizens in arms to repair this misfortune? 
Like the masses of Bohemia and Hungary after the de- 
feats at Ulm and Austerlitz, such forces have not been 
ready to take the field in time, either to stem the tide 
of conquest, or make a new stand for their Country. 
Prussia, like Austria, neglected, alas ! to call forth the 
spirit, and prepare the defensive energies of the people 
.till the important opportunity was lost. 

If examples like these cannot open the eyes and ex- 
cite the apprehensions of England ; if she can still 
repose on an army, hardly recruited so fast as it is ex- 
hausted by Colonial service, and upon volunteers, which 
from existing defects in their constitution are declining 
in numbers and discipline every hour, it must be from 
an infatuation against which it would be idle to 
reason. 



But the truth is, that the national slumber proceeds 
less from a rash confidence, than from inattention to the 
terrible nature of the events, with which we are visibly 
threatened. 

There are objects of apprehension so dreadful in 
their general aspect, that we rarely give ourselves the 
pain to examine them steadily enough to contemplate 
their particular features. Much less do we anticipate 
with a distinct foresight, the consequences which they 
are known to involve. 

Of this kind, is the approaching death of a beloved 
wife or husband. The heart recoils at the idea of such 
an event in the abstract, and we shut our eyes to all its 
concomitant horrors. The sight of long protracted 
agonies, in a frame endeared to us by a thousand tender 
recollections, the plaintive eye imploring from us un- 
availing pity, the tears of children surrounding the 
bed of pain and death, the last fond and sad adieu to 
them and to ourselves, the ghastly lineaments of death 
on a face which had long used to beam upon us with 
intelligence, sensibility, and love; these, and many 
other sad accompaniments of the loss, are unimagined 
till they are felt. Nor are the cheerless hours of widow- 
hood that succeed, the gloom that long broods over the 
once cheerful family table, and winter fireside, the gall 
that now mingles with all the wonted sweets of pa- 
rental affection, the black cloud with which recollec- 
tion suddenly and cruelly darkens the brief occasional 
punshine of the mind, subjects of anticipated pain. 

The same, I conceive, is the case in the public 
mind at this juncture, in respect of those possible and 
dreadful events, our being invaded and conquered by 

6 



France. Strangers to the yoke of a foreign master, 
strangers even to the ordinary miseries which belong to 
a state of war in countries which are the theatres of 
its horrors, we have indeed some dread of those events, 
but it is a vague and indefinite apprehension. We do 
not distinguish the many specific evils which would 
make up the aggregate disaster of such a conquest j 
much less do we look forward to the miseries that 
would unquestionably follow. 

I would endeavour therefore to supply in some mea- 
sure the defects of these loose conceptions, to analyze 
the tremendous mischief which is possibly impending 
over us, to exhibit some of its calamitous elements, 
and point out the exquisite wretchedness which it 
would entail upon my country. We must unavoid- 
ably be soon called upon for very great and very pain- 
ful sacrifices, in order to avert the national ruin with 
which we are menaced by the power of France. Let us 
fairly examine then the impending evil, that we may 
be reconciled to the unpleasant means by which alone 
it can be averted. 

Sect. 2. The effects of such a Conquest. — Usurpation 
or destruction of the Throne. 

It is needless to insist much on that ordinary, and 
most prominent feature, in the revolutions of kingdoms 
by conquest, the transfer of the royal power, from a 
native to a foreign monarch. It is an evil which the 
loyalty of my countrymen, and their affection to the 
best of sovereigns, will sufficiently appreciate. 

If the ruthless Napoleon has ever spared for a 
while, a prince whom he hac] power to depose, it has 
been from motives of policy which would find noplace 



10 

in England, He may safely trust a legitimate monarch 
to wield for a while a feeble and tarnished sceptre on 
the Continent, while his dominions, reduced in extent, 
stripped of their best interior resources, and deprived 
of every outwork that can guard them from invasion, 
are in no condition to oppose his ulterior projects. It 
may even serve his purposes, to make these degraded 
sovereigns instruments of his rapacity, in exacting for 
his use contributions from their wretched subjects; as 
well as involuntary ministers to his ambition, in the 
further extension of his conquests. When rendered 
by such means, hateful to their people, and to their 
neighbours, they may be more safely commanded to 
descend from their thrones, and make room for some 
upstart successor. He seems even to have a cruel plea- 
sure in this course of proceeding; as the tiger plays 
with its wounded victim, and apparently enjoys its 
dreadful suspense, prior to its final destruction. 

But should this subverter of empires ever become 
master of England, the illustrious House of Hanover 
will have no such protracted torments, nor any equi- 
vocal fate. Our island is not capable of a secure or con- 
venient partition among his satellites. There are no 
conquests beyond us, to which England, like Holland, 
or Saxony, may furnish, under a nominal independency, 
a safe and convenient scaffold. And, what is more de- 
cisive, the natural bulwarks of England cannot be re- 
moved. The straights of Dover, cannot, like the 
fortresses on the Rhine, or the passes of the Tyrol, be 
annexed to a hostile state, and the popularity of our 
beloved sovereign, would still more effectually secure 



11 

his fall; for he has a throne in the hearts of his subject* 
that a conqueror could not subvert. 

Perhaps in consideration of our maritime fame, we 
might be honoured with the gift of the Imperial Admiral 
Jerome Buonaparte, as our new Sovereign Lord; and he 
might even deign to accept the hand of some female 
descendant of the Princess Sophia, in order to plant 
a new dynasty, on something like hereditary right. 
Nor is it impossible that the male branches of that 
illustrious House, might soon be so disposed of, as to 
leave none who could dispute the legality of the mar- 
riage, or of any title founded upon it. England has no 
Salic Law; the Usurper is not scrupulous in his means, 
and he has shewn that he knows the value of that here- 
ditary right upon which he has so violently trampled. 

I must admit, however, that it is more probable we 
■should not be trusted with any shew of national inde- 
pendence; but be either reduced avowedly into the 
form of a province, or honoured with the name of a de- 
partment. If the choice of the French people had any 
weight, such would of course be our destiny; since 
our insular situation and maritime character, might 
soon convert a nominal, into a real independence. — 
Rome did not think herself safe, while Carthage had 
walls or foundations. 

I leave these prospects without remark to a spirited 
and loyal people. True loyalty, like love, is too deli- 
cate to admit of excitement or expostulation, unless 
from the object of its attachment. 

Sect. 3. Overthrow of the Constitution. 

What shall I say of the subversion of that glorious 
fabric the British Constitution I We have .been lately 



12 

exercising the elective franchise, and if the spirit of 
our contests for representatives in Parliament, at this 
arduous crisis, has in some instances deserved reproof, 
at least we must admire that perfect freedom of choice, 
which so many have been able to exercise. Whether 
more of that freedom is safely attainable than the pre- 
sent scheme of representation affords, is a question 
which it would be impertinent to discuss in these sheets, 
nor is this a proper season for such discussions. It is 
not when the ship labours in the tempest, and when 
breakers are under her lee, that you would set about 
an alteration in her cabin, or even think of repairing 
her helm. It is easy to find faults in every thing human ; 
but when in danger of losing what we love, we think 
not of its faults, but of its value. He that really loves 
British liberty, therefore will now be disposed to forget 
for a while what he may deem imperfect in it, and 
reflect with fond anxiety on its inestimable worth. 

What nobler civil exhibition did earth ever afford 
than the election of a British House of Commons ! A 
whole people, not in a rude state, or while few in num- 
ber, but when forming a mighty nation, great in arms, 
great in civilization, commerce, and wealth, freely as- 
* semble in their various districts to choose their own 
legislators, the organs of their will, the delegates of 
their authority, the guardians of their rights. If in- 
fluence be used by the existing Administration, what 
is the Administration but a power, which the attach- 
ment of former representatives of the peopie, as much 
perhaps as the choice of the Sovereign, has created or 
upheld ? Influence coo is used in an opposite direc- 
tion, not perhaps with less zeal or effect. Man is not 



13 

fn'ade universally to act in society from purely sponta- 
neous motives. But force, brute force, that engine of 
usurped authority, that instrument of almost every 
other human government, however legitimate, in mat- 
ters that concern the State, is driven from the hallowed 
precincts of our elective freedom, like a demon from 
consecrated ground. The ordinary instruments of 
monarchical power, the military, though here never 
employed but in subservience to, and at the requisition 
of the laws, are forbidden to approach the place where 
these high franchises are exercised, lest even the shadow 
of constraint should seem to diminish their lustre. 

Would French conquest leave us such liberties to 
boast ? Let us look to Switzerland, to Holland, to 
France herself, for an answer to that question. 

The freedom of our constitution, mortifying and 
opprobrious in its example to Frenchmen, is the last 
of our blessings that the usurper would consent to 
spare. To subvert this freedom, by the inviting image 
of which his throne is perpetually endangered, is more 
than ambition, more than revenge, or the thirst of glory, 
the true object of his arms. He would rather by far, 
leave us our political independency, and our commerce, 
than our civil institutions. 

I dare not venture however, to affirm, that we should 
have no more parliaments. It is his frequent policy, to 
retain the name of those civil establishments, the spirit 
and use of which he takes away : and we should probably, 
therefore, in losing the substance of Parliamentary re- 
presentation, be insulted with its empty form. 

I am not sure even that we should not have mock 
contested elections: the mummery of Garret Green, 



u 

might be transferred to Coven t Garden or Guildhall. 
But woe to those ejectors, or to that populace, which 
should be simple enough to suppose that the return of 
members was indeed submitted to their choice. A 
vote against the nominee of the court, or a hiss at the 
Frenchified hireling, would fatally mark the disaffection 
of its author, and ere long he would have leisure in a 
dungeon to bewail his temerity and folly. 

Sect. 4. Subversion §f our Liberty and Laws. 

Our freedom of choice, however, and our elective 
franchises in general, are rather buttresses of civil li- 
berty, than the happy edifice itself. That inestimable 
blessing chiefly consists, in the supremacy of known 
and equal laws, in their upright administration, and in 
the security of the individual, against the oppression of 
the civil magistrate, or the state. 

And here, what people ever had so much to lose, as 
the inhabitants of this favoured land ! 

"When I enter that venerable hall which for many 
centuries has been the seat of our superior tribunals, 
and contemplate the character of the courts which are 
busily exercising their several jurisdictions around it, 
I am almost tempted to forget the frailty of man, 
and the imperfection of his noblest works. There, 
justice supported by liberty and honour, sits enthroned 
as in her temple, elevated far above the region of all 
ignoble passions. There, judicial character is so strong- 
ly guarded by ages of fair example, by public confi- 
dence, by conscious independence, and dignity of 
station, that it is scarcely a virtue to be just. There, 
the human intellect nourished by the morning dew of 
industry, and warmed by manly emulation,- puts forth 



15 

its most vigorous shoots, and consecrates them to the 
noblest of all sublunary ends. 

If the rude emblems of heavenly intelligence with 
which our pious ancestors have adorned that majestic 
roof, were really what they were meant to represent, 
they might announce to us that they had looked down 
upon an administration of justice, advancing progres- 
sively, from the days of our Henries, at least, in cor- 
rectness, liberality, purity and independence, till it has 
arrived at a degree of perfection, never before witnessed 
upon earth, and such as the children of Adam are not 
likely ever to surpass. 

This blessing, the fairest offspring of freedom, or 
rather its purest essence, may like all other advantages, 
be undervalued by those who have always enjoyed it* 
and know only by report the evils of a different lot. 
But those Englishmen who have travelled far enough, 
to see ignorance, prejudice, servility, and oppression ■, 
in the seat of justice, know how to appreciate and 
admire the tribunals of their native land. 

Nor is the protecting power of our superior courts, 
less distinguished than their purity. Jn what other 
realm can an independent judge, deliver him whom 
the government has consigned to the darkness of a 
dungeon ? Where else is the sword of the state 
chained to its scabbard, till drawn by the sentence 
of the law ? And who but an Englishman, can defy, 
while judges are incorrupt, the proudest minister, or 
most insidious minion of a court ! 

The unique and inestimable institution of trial by 
jury, is an item only, though a proud and precious one, 
of this glorious account. The Englishman's life, his 



16 

honour, and, with some reasonable exceptions, his 
property too, are placed not only under the protection 
of the laws, but under the further safeguard of his 
neighbours and equals in private life, without whose 
sanction, solemnly given upon oath, he cannot be con- 
demned. 

Such > my countrymen, are some of the blessings of 
our freeborn jurisprudence; and these, I need not tell 
you, would all cease to exist, if we fell under the 
dominion of France. 

None of you can be so ignorant as to suppose, that 
Buonaparte would allow a Habeas Corpus, a jury, or a 
gaol-delivery, to the victims of his state-craft or 
revenge. He has replaced by a hundred bastiles, the 
one which he has assisted to destroy. A thousand 
miserable prisoners groan in his dungeons for one that 
met that fate under the unfortunate Bourbons. 
He has found the secret also, of obtaining, from 
civil as well as military tribunals, a blind obedience to 
his will. 

It cannot be supposed that he will submit to the 
restraint of laws in a province, while he rejects it in 
imperial France. We must bid farewell therefore, 
should he become our master, to protecting laws, to 
independent and upright judges, to trial by jury, and 
to all those privileges which now constitute our security 
from civil or military oppression. The innocent will 
no longer be able to lie down in peace, secure that they 
shall not be torn from their families ere morning, to be 
examined by tortures, or perish in the gloom of a 
dungeon. 

From that time, integrity will retire from the seat 



17 

of justice, and corruption take its place. Judge- 
ments, in civil cases, will be sold ; in criminal will be 
dictated by the ruthless voice of oppression. Fraud 
and violence will every where prevail, and cunning servi- 
lity be the only path to safety. If any of our laws 
remain unaltered, they will be such only as may serve, 
when no longer guarded by the checks of a free consti- 
tution, to multiply the modes, and aggravate the weight 
of despotism. 

Let us look next to the infallible and total suppres- 
sion of the liberty of our press. 

While any portion of this privilege remains in any 
country, there is, if not a hope of deliverance, at least 
some consolation for the oppressed. 

The minions of power may be kept in check, by the 
publicity of transactions which, though not directly 
arraigned, would speak their own condemnation. But 
if not, the victim of despotism will at least know that he 
is pitied, perhaps admired and applauded, by his vir- 
tuous fellow citizens j and that reflection will make his 
chains sit lighter. 

But no such consolation remains where the power of 
Buonaparte prevails. He has made a league with dark- 
ness. He has declared war against the mutual intel- 
ligence and sympathy, as well as the happiness of 
mankind. He has not indeed destroyed the organs of 
public information, but he has done infinitely worse : 
he has appropriated them all to his own tyrannic use, 
compelled them to utter all his falsehoods and calum- 
nies, and forbade them to speak or whisper with any 
breath but his own. 

The government of the press by the French Bour- 

C 



18 

bons, or even by the Spanish Inquisition, was wholly 
of a negative kind. Robespierre, his associates and 
successors, imposed no restraints on the press, unless 
through the unavoidable terror of their power ; and we 
learned, even from the Parisian journals, the worst 
crimes of those sanguinary rulers. 

But Buonaparte, more crafty, though not less cruel, 
than his predecessors, suppresses every act of Govern- 
ment that he wishes to conceal, as well as every adverse 
remark on his conduct; while he obliges every vehicle 
of public intelligence to circulate, as on its own autho- 
rity, whatever impostures or forgeries he chuses to 
propagate. The victims of his tyranny, if not plunged 
in oblivion, are defamed in their characters, and mis- 
represented in their conduct; yet find no possible means 
of reply. They are not only deprived of liberty and 
life, but defrauded of the sympathy of their friends, 
of their families, and mankind. 

Fancy not then, Englishmen, that under the oppres- 
sion of this unparallelled tyrant, you would have the 
consolation of knowing that your most cruel wrongs, 
or the honourable fortitude with which you might 
sustain them, were known and pitied by your Country. 
You might be tortured to death, like Pichegru, and 
accused of suicide ; you might be murdered, like 
D'Enghien, and represented as convicted assassin?. 
You might be buried in a dungeon, like Toussaint, 
and libelled as perfidious traitors. Nay you might 
like his unfortunate family, be hidden for ever from 
the world, or secretly destroyed in prison, without a 
"veice that could convey to the public, or even to your 



19 

anxiously inquiring friends, the cause or nature of your 
fate. 

It would be endless to enumerate the various and 
peculiar miseries which the sudden subversion of our 
liberties would produce, among a generous and high 
spirited people. 

When Buonaparte bade Frenchmen resume their 
chains, it was little more than a change from one form 
of slavery to another. Even in their short-lived zeal 
for liberty and equality, they never for a moment tasted 
the rich fruit of genuine freedom. But Englishmen 
have enjoyed for ages that inestimable blessing; _ and 
how shall we be able to bear its sad reverse ? How shall 
we endure the contemptuous despotism of office, the 
exactions of rapacious commissaries, and the harsh 
controul of a military police? 

We must lay aside, my countrymen, that indigna- 
tion at injustice in the exercise of power, which is so 
natural to the free born mind, when stung by the sense 
of oppression. We must also suppress that generous 
sympathy for the wrongs of others, which i> so easily 
excited in the breasts of an English populace. That 
amiable feeling, now too often abused with tales of 
imaginary oppression, must then be suppressed, even on 
the most real and extreme provocation. Fatal would- 
it then be to murmur, when we saw our innocent 
countrymen, our friends, or dearest connections, 
dragged away by the rude hand of power, at the man- 
date of some angry despot, to imprisonment or death. 

The foulest corruption, the basest perfidy, the most 
savage cruelty, when clothed with the authority of our 
new masters, must pass without reprehension, or audi- 

£ 2 



20 

ble complaint ; nay must be treated by us whh lowly 
submission and respect. 

We must lay aside also that proud sense of personal 
inviolability, which we now cherish so fondly ; and 
what is justly prized still more, the civil sanctity of our 
homes. The Englishman's house must be his cabtle 
no more. 

Instead of our humble watchmen to wish us respect- 
fully good night when returning to our abodes in the 
evening, we shall be challenged at every turning by 
military pat roles ; and shall be fortunate, if we meet no 
pert boy in commission, or ill natured trooper, to re- 
buke us with the back of his sword, or with a lodging 
in the guard- house, for a heedless or tardy reply. Per- 
haps after ali, when we arrive at our homes, instead of 
that quiet fire-side at which we expected to sit in do- 
mestic privacy with our wives and children, and relieve 
our burthened hearts by sighing with them over the 
sorrows of our Country, we shall find some ruffian 
familiars of the police on a domiciliary visit; or some 
insolent young officers, who have stepped in unasked to 
relieve their tedium while on guard, by the conversa- 
tion of our wives and daughters. It would be danger- 
ous, however, to offend such unwelcome guests; or 
even not to treat them with all the respect due to 
brave warriors who have served under Napoleon the 
Great. 

But should we escape such intruders for the evening, 
still we must lie down uncertain whether our dwellings- 
will be left unviolated till the morning. A tremendous 
noise will often at midnight rouse the father of a family 
from his sleep, and he will hear a harsh voice command* 



21 

ing to open the gate, through which its hapless master 
will soon pass to return no more. 

These are but a small part of those intolerable re^ 
verses in point of civil government to which English- 
men would be doomed to submit. J will however pur- 
sue no further their odious detail; but proceed to an- 
other consequence of the supposed conquest — the tran- 
sition from opulence to ruin. 

Sect. 5. Destruction of the Funds, and ruin of 

property in general. 
It cannot be necessary to prove, that the rapid de- 
cline, if not the immediate ruin, of our manufactures 
and commerce, would be a certain effect of subjection 
to a foreign power. 

These envied possessions of England, would be the 
favourite spoils of the conqueror; and though he might 
not find it easy to remove, it would be perfectly so to 
destroy them. Indeed his utmost efforts to preserve 
them to us, could we expect such a benevolent at- 
tempt, would certainly be fruitless. They are the 
creatures of general confidence and credit, of legal 
security, and of the peculiar excitements which have 
been held forth to commercial industry and enterprise, 
by the genius of our happy constitution. Still more 
do they owe their extent and prosperity to that maritime 
greatness, which they reciprocally nourish and sustain. 
They depend much also, on what would of course im- 
mediately vanish, the confidence and respect of foreign 
nations, and those treaties which give us a preference 
in their markets. Need I add, that another of their 
grand supports, the commerce of the East, would no 



22 

longer be ours; nor those colonies which we value too 
much. 

But it is idle to dwell on such remarks. As well 
might we expect the tree to flourish after its roots are 
cut off, as our commerce or manufactures to survive the 
loss of our power, our independency, and freedom. 

A still more awful view of the effects of conquest, 
will be found in the contemplation of our public funds. 

Is any man absurd enough to expect, that the annui- 
ties of the Stock-holders, will be paid under the go- 
vernment of Buonaparte? I fear there are at least many 
who have not thought seriously upon the question, 
or reflected on the certainty of the opposite event, and 
its truly dreadful consequences : for otherwise we should 
certainly never hear of the weight of taxes, or of finan- 
cial dangers from the war, when the security of the 
Country is at stake. 

The speedy wreck of the funds is demonstrated, the 
moment it is ascertained that commerce and manufac- 
tures must be ruined : for the whole current of the 
revenue has now barely force enough to keep the 
immense wheels of our finances in motion, and carry 
them smoothly through their annual revolutions. 
The loss of commerce and manufactures, let it be re- 
membered, is not merely the loss of an equal portion of 
duties in the customs and excise ; though that alone 
would be fatal. It involves also the decline of various 
collateral branches of revenue ; of the duties on income, 
of assessed taxes, and all the various direct and indirect 
contributions, of the Merchant, the Manufacturer, their 
families and dependents. It leads also to a more than 



23 

proportionate increase of p -irochial contributions, those 
great drawbacks on the national resources. 

Bat if our funds could possibly survive the loss of our 
commerce and manufactures, their vitality would cer- 
tainly not be proof against the grasp of a rapacious 
Government. Buonaparte would assuredly find other 
uses for our remaining revenue, than that of paying 
dividends at the Bank, to the public creditors of England. 

I know not how many tens or hundreds of thousands 
of French Soldiers, it might be thought necessary to 
station here, for the support of the new Government: 
but beyond doubt we should, like Holland, and the 
conquered Countries on the Rhine, be honoured with 
the presence of a strong army of the best troops of the 
Great Nation, who would invite us to practise in a 
very liberal way towards them, the virtues of hospi- 
tality. 

We should also have to provide for the splendour of 
a Royal or Proconsular Court, which would ill second 
the views of the magnificent Napoleon, if it did not 
compensate for the want of native dignity, by a luxury 
and extravagance far surpassing in expence the charges 
ot a legitimate government. Supposing however, that 
our revenue should exceed the immense demands of our 
new civil and military establish rnents, still who can 
doubt that the surplus would be drawn away into the 
Treasury of the Great Nation, or the Privy Coffers of 
its Imperial Master? Unhappy creditors, to whom 
above twenty- two Millions a year are now issued in 
public annuities, your rights would be a weak obstacle 
to the avarice of your Conqueror, even though his ap- 
petite for plunder were not sharpened by necessity. 



24 

The Conquest of Europe, let it be considered, is a 
costly thing; and so must long be the maintenance of 
those prodigious armies, and the enriching of those 
numberless needy instruments, military and civil, by 
which the conquest must be maintained. But the Con- 
tinent is already impoverished. Even France herself has 
been lately obliged to pay her contributions in kind. If 
all the millions, therefore, which this country must raise 
in order to be solvent, could be still raised when our 
freedom is no more, not one of them, we may be sure, 
would be spared in compassion to the British Stock- 
holder. When solvency should become plainly hope- 
less, and a small composition be all that justice itself 
could offer, our new Government would not foolishly 
embarrass itself with the trouble of apportioning such 
a pittance among the hungry multitude, but take the 
short and simple course of shutting up the books at 
once. 

Without therefore stopping to enquire, whether 
Bank Paper would retain its value after the supposed 
conquest, or whether any other medium of payment 
could be. found, I may safely assume, that with the 
independency of our country, the dividends at the Bank 
would cease. It is not even too much to assert, that 
a stockholder, before in the receipt of thousands per 
annum, might be unable to pay for his dinner. 

That this sudden annihilation of our funds, would 
be a certain effect of the conquest, will probably, 
not be disputed by any reasoning mind. Let us 
pause then awhile, and contemplate that dreadful event. 
Men are very apt to deceive themselves on this subject, 
by false analogies in the history of other countries, 



" America became a bankrupt to her own Citizens ; so 
did the French Republic; and the consequences, no 
doubt were dreadful ; but they were endured — they 
were even exceeded by other calamities of the same 
unfortunate periods." 

But have we considered the essential and fearful dif- 
ferences, between our own public debt, and that of 
America or France ? 

First, as to its amount. — The sums for which those 
countries failed, bore no proportion to the mass of their 
general property. The people collectively, lost not a 
hundredth part, perhaps, of their possessions. But 
Great Britain owes, and chiefly to her own subjects, 
above six hundred millions sterling, bearing an interest 
of above twenty-two millions yearly; and the whole rental 
of our lands, estimated even at the rate to which the arti- 
ficial effects of this very debt has raised it, does not ex^- 
ceed twenty-five millions.* If the rental be taken at 
the value, to which the fall of our funds would rapidly 
reduce it, the loss of the pubiic creditors collectively, 
would greatly exceed the whole remaining income of 
the country, except that which is produced bv com- 
merce, manufactures, and other modes of active in- 
dustry. The amount of income that might be derived 
from such sources, after the national ruin here sup- 
posed, cannot easily be estimated ; but it would un- 
questionably become inadequate to the support of the 
millions who now depend upon it, and would by its sud- 
den fall, prodigiously augment the mass of the genera] 



* This was Mr. Pitt's estimate for the purpose of the Income 
Tax. 

2 



26 

distress more directly occasioned by the wreck of the 
funds. It would probably on the whole, be no extra- 
vagant conjecture, that by the mediate and immediate, 
direct and collateral, effects of this great calamity, one 
half of all the income of the kingdom would be sud- 
denly annihilated. 

Happy, however, comparatively would the case be, 
if the consequence only were, that each individual pos- 
sessed of property lost a half pan of his income; or if 
the loss were to be in any degree equally divided. On 
the contrary, to a very great proportion of our stock- 
holders, the sudden effect would be the loss of all that 
they possess: an instant reduction fiom opulence or 
competency, to total and absolute ruin. 

In other respects too, the case would be fearfully 
distinguished from those of other Nations, in which 
public insolvency has occurred. Never elsewhere was 
public credit so well established on the basis of long 
experienced security, and so upheld by the firm pillars 
of public principle, and constitutional controuls, that 
men have been confident enough to trust their ail, to 
the integrity and prudence of the Government. Nor 
ever elsewhere was property so widely diffused,, that 
multitudes of all classes, from the Peer to the Peasant s 
had a pledge of this nature to confide. In other in- 
stances of National Bankruptcy therefore, it has been 
the calamity, not of the many, but the few; and T even 
to these,, has been but a partial loss. Nay, it has prin- 
cipally fallen upon those to whom it was rather an 
ordinary casualty of commercial adventure, than an un- 
foreseen and total privation of actual property, supposed 
to have been realized, ami placed beyond the reach of 



27 

hazard. Foreign Stock, like the share of a new loan, 
or canal subscription, has been rather a subject of gain- 
ful speculation, than a depositary for quiescent capital, 
invested with a view to fixed and permanent income. 

From the same causes another distinction, still more 
deplorable, in its probable effects, has arisen. There are 
periods in the life of almost every man who possesses 
property, in which its security is far more important to 
him than its increase, and when this creature of society* 
acquires in his eyes its highest interest and value. Such 
is the case with the Father and the Husband, when, in 
the contemplation of death, he sits down to exercise the 
power and the duty of making his last will, and pro- 
viding for the well being of those who are dearest to 
him, after his decease. In such cases, what Testator 
but an Englishman has generally thought of committ- 
ing the whole subsistence of his widow and infant chil- 
dren, to the security of the public funds? But here, 
that has not only been the frequent, it has been the fa- 
vourite and ordinary course, even with the most pru- 
dent parents and husbands, who -have had personal pro- 
perty to invest. The funds having long been deemed 
equally secure with real estate, have been esteemed the 
most convenient depositary for the property of those 
who, in respect of their years or sex, are unable to im- 
prove or manage it for themselves. 

Our courts of equity, too, in the exercise of their 
contro.ul over executors and trustees, and in their 
protection of the estates of married women and infants, 
have followed the same course. The most conserva- 
tory and beneficial application of personal estate, under 
the direction of those courts, has been thought to be 



28 

an Investment in the purchase of Bank Annuities; and 
a great multitude of widows and orphans, are at this 
hour receiving their daily bread from the interest of 
monies so invested, not through the providence of 
their deceased relations alone, but by the decrees of 
our civil tribunals. 

The certainty of punctual half yearly payments, 
and the convenience with which they are received, 
have also induced persons advanced in years, or re- 
tiring from business, to invest their capitals in the 
public funds, preferably to all other securities; and it 
is probable, that among twenty such persons living in 
retirement on their incomes, landholders excepted, 
scarcely more than one could be found, that does not 
chiefly or wholly depend on his half yearly dividends 
at the Bank, for his subsistence. 

There is besides, a virtual and indirect dependency 
of capital and income on the national funds, which 
is scarcely less comprehensive than that which is direct 
and immediate: and which also involves a large pro- 
portion of the aged and helpless. The creditors or an- 
nuitants of public companies, the bond creditors of 
private merchants, nay even in great measure the mort- 
gagees of real estate, would find the wreck of the pub- 
lic funds a source of general ruin. 

The mortgagee indeed might be safe,, when his loan, 
and all prior incumbrances taken together, bore but a 
small proportion to the value of the estate; but in that 
case only: because it is demonstrable that as the value 
of land has risen progressively with the growth of our 
funds, the annihilation of the latter would reduce that 
Talue almost to its ancient level \ while the enormous 



■W 

increase of poor rates, the effect of general ruin, would 
sink the landholder's net revenue, out of which the' 
interest of incumbrances must be paid, still more per- 
haps than the value of his capital. 

And here we may perceive a new range of calamity, 
within which the families even of our most opulent 
landholders would fall. Fortunate is that real estate, 
which is not heavily charged with jointures, and por- 
tions for younger children, and with mortgages, and 
other incumbrances besides, which are often prior in 
point of charge to those family burthens. The inte- 
rest of the proprietor therefore might be wholly sunk 
in the general wreck, should it materially lower his 
rental; and so might the whole incomes of all his 
nearest relations. It is highly probable however, that 
the estates of the great landed proprietors would soon 
be confiscated, and given to the officers of the army 
appointed to keep us in subjection. The policy of 
William the Norman would furnish an inviting pre- 
cedent to our new conqueror, and would perhaps be 

the best means of finallv breaking down the British 

•i «— > 

spirit of the country. 

In short all who have property Oi any species, would 
share soon or late in the common disaster, while a very 
great majority of them would be instantly deprived by 
it of their whole subsistence. 

Nor would this calamity be limited to the loss of 
actual possessions. How many parents and husbands 
are there now in this Kingdom, whose sole hope that 
a helpless family will not want bread after their de- 
cease, is built upon life insurances 1 To sustain 
this hope, multitudes have long been paying pre- 



so 

miums which they could ill afford, and renouncing 
perhaps, in these costly times, long accustomed grati- 
fications, that they might avoid the intolerable dread, 
of leaving a beloved wife and children in absolute in- 
digence. 

But what will become of the security of life insu- 
rances, when the national funds are no more? Ask 
the Directors of those great public Companies whose 
credit is the most undoubted, and they will tell you that 
their whole capital consists of national stock, or other 
public securities; and that when the State shall become 
insolvent, their policies may be thrown into the fire. 
Where then, in this dreadful case, will the unfortunate, 
though not improvident man, who had relied upon 
such insurances, find any refugefrom his cares? He 
had not property to lose, but he has lost much more. 
He is bereft of the chief human consolation, from 
which he used to derive comfort in the prospect of 
approaching dissolution. Perhaps he has already en- 
tered upon the confines of the grave ; a broken con- 
stitution, or the debility of age, preclude the hope 
of his seeing another summer, and still more of his 
saving, by future industry, a provision for his family. 
A faithful wife therefore who is beginning to feel the 
infirmities of declining years, and beloved daughters 
who have no means of providing for their own support, 
must soon be left exposed to all the horrors of want. 
Who can conceive the sharpness of parental and con- 
jugal misery, in situations like these ! 

Without- attempting to pursue further the dreadful 
effects of national bankruptcy into their numberless 
ramifications, I would ^sk the considerate reader, what 



51 

proportion would subsist between such a case as this,. 
and any revolution of property that the world has yet 
seen ? The funding system, which alone could produce 
such terrible consequences, is of very modern giowth, 
and from its worst casualties experienced in other coun- 
tries, a national bankruptcy in England would differ 
as widely, as an earthquake in a crowded city, differs 
from a shipwreck on the ocean. 

Ruin, though it may elsewhere have invaded the: 
helpless, has not made them its peculiar prey; but 
here, its most numerous victims would be found 
among the feeble, the aged, the widow, and the 
orphan; among those who are the least able to 
struggle against the waves of adversity, and who 
on the loss of their property, would be destitute of 
every resource. Tens, or even hundreds of thousands, 
of hapless Englishmen, would in one day, be reduced 
from ease and affluence, to extreme and remediless 
distress. Elegance, would be exchanged for rags*. 
luxury, for hunger and cold, comfort and security, for 
misery and despair. 

I know not even whether the benign institution of 
our poor laws, and our many charitable foundations 
for the relief of the aged and destitute, would not 
aggravate the general distress. Most of the latter, 
would be entirely deprived of the funds provided for 
their support ; and the multitudes of poor to be sustained 
by parochial rates, would become a burthen scarcely sup- 
portable by the impoverished contributors, reduced as 
they would greatly be in number, as well as in fortune. 
Persons in the upper and middle ranks of society, 
would be consequently die less able to assist each other in 



32 

the dreadful event supposed. The hand of friendship 
or benevolence, would be arrested by the grasp of the 
tax-gatherer. 

Most persons have friends in whose affectionate sym- 
pathy they think a resource would be found, under the 
greatest malice of fortune; but in this tremendous case, 
whole circles of the dearest connections, or most fa- 
miliar acquaintances, would all find themselves under 
the sad necessity of soliciting, instead of being able to 
impart relief. Their fortunes being all sunk in the 
same enormous vortex, they would be in no more capa- 
city to assist each ether, than passengers in the same 
ship, when she goes to pieces on the rocks, or hungry 
manners on the same desolate island. Or could a 
wretched family invoke the aid of some acquaintance or 
friend, who had still some landed income, or other 
means of support, they would find him pre-occupied 
by nearer claims; or so surrounded with supplicants, the 
objects of equal sympathy, as to have but a mere use- 
less pittance to afford. The best hope of the miserable 
many, therefore, would be to partake of such parochial 
relief, as a ruined country might still be able to give, 
to the common mass of its paupers. 

How terrible would it be for an accomplished and 
virtuous female, who till now had been accustomed to 
all the comforts, and elegant enjoyments, of an easy 
fortune, to become, with her lovely children, an in- 
mate of a parish workhouse ! Yet those receptacles of 
coarse and unsightly indigence, from which even the 
more decent of our poor, now turn with disgust, would 
then become an asylum, to which the most refined and 
delicate might be driven to resort. They might wish, 



33 

perhaps, that the humanity of their country had pro- 
vided no such sad alternative to famine $ but the im- 
perious requisitions of hunger, or a conscience revolt- 
ing at suicide, would compel the starving individual* 
and much more the wretched family, to protract a 
painful existence even on those loathsome terms. 

The prospect of such calamities is enough to make 
an Englishman view with anxiety and alarm, those 
appearances of general opulence, in which we are too 
apt to exult. 

When we* walk in the neighbourhood of this grand 
metropolis, through any Of those pleasant villages with 
which it is surrounded, we see the wealth and prosperity 
of the nation, in their most pleasing and captivating 
dress. The road is bordered on each side, and the green 
or common surrounded, with country retreats of all di- 
mensions, from the stately villa, down to the little 
painted box, which mocks the tax-gatherer with its 
single window: and through the whole range of the 
scale, all is neatness and comfort. Almost every 
mansion, however small, is provided with its parterre 
in front, and its garden behind ; unless fortunate 
enough to possess a more extensive allotment of land, 
in the centre of which, surrounded with ornamental 
shrubs and flower-pots, it exhibits a still more inviting 
shew of retirement and independence. 

Yet these are the abodes of men engaged in the busy 
occupations of commerce; and a great many of them 
too, in subordinate stations ; men, who in any other 
country, and forty years agd in our own, would have 
been shut up in the smoky town, under the same roof 
with their counting-houses or shops. 

D 



34 

If we pass in the morning, the masters of these happy 
retreats are seen issuing with cheerfulness, refreshed by 
the pure breezes of the country, to repair on horseback 
or ih carriages, to their daily business in London. In 
the afternoon, we see them returning in the same easy 
and commodious way, to enjoy their family comforts; 
or already sat down to the social meal, which waited 
their arrival. In the interior of these rural mansions, 
all is answerable to their outward appearance. The 
smallest of them can boast, if not elegance, at least, 
neatness, cleanness, and convenience in its furniture, 
and plenty, Hf not luxury, on its table, greater than are 
often seen in other countries, even in the mansions of 
the great. 

This wide extent of domestic enjoyments, exhibits 
more clearly, as well as more pleasingly, the general 
afrluence of the country, than even the profusion of 
private carriages, and the many splendid equipages, 
which crowd the roads to a great distance from the 
metropolis, 

Often in the contemplation of such scenes, have I 
shuddered at the thought of that sad reverse which may 
be near at hand. How possible is it that in a few 
years, aye, in a few months, all this unexampled com-* 
fort and happiness, may vanish, like the painted clouds 
in a western sky, before an evening tempest ! These 
enjoyments of the merchants, and other busy actors in 
the various industry of London, may be compared to 
the tulips and hyacinths which we sometimes see 
blowing in flower- glasses in their parlour windows. 
The numberless fibres from which they derive their 
nutriment, are not inserted in the solid earth of real 



S5 

property, but float in the loose element of public 
credit \ and the wreck of the funds would be as fatal 
to them, as the fall of the glass cylinder to the flower. 
Our Merchants would have again to return to the 
parsimonious habits, and rigid industry of their fore- 
fathers. Instead of being able to unite as now, the 
profits of the town, with the health and pleasures of 
the Country, at the charge of two residences, and the 
expensive means of communication between them, sin- 
gularly fortunate would be that individual, who could 
find, by immuring himself and his family in the heart 
of the Metropolis, and by using every resource that 
painful industry and parsimony could there explore, 
the means of escaping want. 

Those numberless costly villas, therefore, which now 
arrest the eye in every direction, those interminable 
ranges of less conspicuous, but not less happy dwellings, 
which form the suburban villages, would soon be de- 
serted ; and would fall to the ground almost as rapidly 
as they rose from it. In a few years, a walk *six miles 
from London, instead of exciting, as now, lively emo- 
tions of patriotic joy and admiration, would be like an 
evening visit to a Church yard, presenting nothing but 
the shadows of impotent ambition, and the mouldering 
records of departed happiness, The*wretched survivor 
of the freedom of his country, would be happy to' escape 
from that wide ciicle that now comprises the most in- 
teresting displays of our commercial affluence, to leave 
Hampstead, or Woodford, Clapham, or Norwood, be- 
hind him, in order to find a country less incumbered 
with ruins, and deliver himself from the torments of 

visual recollection. 

D 2 



36 

Sect. 6. Dreadful extent and effects of the contribu- 
tions that ivould be exacted. 

In this sad foresight of the desolation of my Country, 
I have passed over unnoticed some of the earlier and 
more terrible effects of conquest. 

On the probable carnage in the field, it would be 
uncandid to lay any stress. England I trust would not 
be lost without a struggle worthy of such a stake ; and 
though the astonishing celerity of our enemy's opera- 
tions, might defraud a large proportion of our military 
defenders of the chance ot dying for their Country, yet 
there probably would be some actions fertile enough 
in slaughter. But it would be unfair to reckon this 
among the aggravations of our fate ; since scenes would 
soon ensue, which would make the living envy the dead 
their peace, as well as their glory. Let us rather look 
therefore, to some of the manifold and endless oppres- 
sions which would await the hapless survivors. 

I have generally and faintly sketched some parts of 
the wretchedness of losing property; but a worse mis- 
chief will be the false repute of possessing it. 

Here again we are in danger of misapplying, by false 
analogies, the lessons of experience. In other Countries 
which have been conquered by France, their impo- 
verished and exhausted state has been generally known 
to the victors. They have been either the seats of war, 
and drained by previous contributions; or like Holland, 
conquered under circumstances which made it pru- 
dent to practise forbearance, till time had gradually 
revealed the real indigence of the people. In other 
cases tooj a native government has been macje the 



instrument of exactions ; and its representations, the 
sincerity of which there has been little room to doubt, 
have sometimes induced the Conquerors to moderate 
their extreme requisitions. At worst, such a Govern- 
ment has been permitted to regulate, equalize, and 
soften, the actual collection. The fate of these Coun- 
tries has nevertheless been severe enough ; and much 
more so than they have dared to reveal, through any 
public channels of complaint. 

But if England be conquered, it will be under cir- 
cumstances which will leave France nothing to fear 
from the odium which she may contract by the utmost 
rapacity of conduct; and to a native British Govern- 
ment, we shall unquestionably not be intrusted. 

What is a still more fearful distinction, our Enemies 
have the most extravagant ideas of our public and in- 
dividual wealth. Far from understanding the great 
financial difficulties under which we actually labour, 
they suppose us to have gold enough yet in reserve to 
subsidise the whole continent forages; and that instead 
of being impoverished, we have been greatly enriched 
by the war. 

I ask then, whai eloquence, or what attainable proofs, 
would serve to convince these rapacious masters, that 
the largest contribution, or the greatest number of heavy 
contributions, which they might successively impose 
upon us, were too much for our purses to yield ? Sums 
would soon be required, which the subordinate Admini- 
strators of finance for the Country at large, would find it 
impossible to raise. Our Tyrants would then perhaps 
apportion the charge, upon counties, cities, towns, 
and even parishes. But the inefficacy of this, and every 



other resort, would infallibly sooner or later bring the 
levy home to our houses, by the mode of individual 
assessments ; and a system of inquisitorial exaction and 
oppression would ensue, more cruel than ever before 
existed upon earth. 

Let the owner of an elegant villa, or sumptuous town 
mansion, consider how he would be able to satisfy a 
military commissary of his poverty, when called upon 
for a thousand guineas; or let the master of a handsome 
house either in town or country, reflect how he could 
prove his inability to pay a hundred ? Each indeed might 
truly allege, that he had not one guinea in his posses- 
sion or power, that his wealth had been annihilated by 
the public bankruptcy, and that his daily subsistence 
now depended upon the credit which he still found, for 
a while, with his tradesmen, or upon the compassionate 
assistance of friends. But all this would be regarded 
as common and stale pretence, which every man might 
set up, which could never be clearly investigated, and 
which must therefore be generally disallowed. The un- 
happy man perhaps might truly add, that his plate had 
already been seized, his cabinets rifled, and his most va- 
luable moveables sold, to satisfy former requisitions. — 
But this would be considered only as evidence of former 
contumacy, and systematic deception. The splendid 
or oenteel manner, in which he would be known recently 
to have lived, would be deemed a presumption against 
him paramount to every proof that could he offered of 
present poverty or distress. 

In truth, nothing would be more natural than the 
surmise, that poverty was a pretence to elude the de- 
mands of the state. With many, their pleas of 



39 

inability, if not wholly groundless, would at least be 
exaggerated statements ; and the detection of falsehood 
in some cases, would seem to justify incredulity in all. 
Besides, after every allowance made for the long use of 
our paper representatives for money, it would be very 
difficult for a foreigner to believe that so small a quan- 
tity of specie remained in the country, as would be 
actually found. Some few persons too might be de- 
tected in having buried or concealed it ; which when 
discovered, would perhaps be almost as fatal to their 
countrymen, as the expedient of some unhappy Jews, 
who on the capture of Jerusalem by Titus swallowed 
their gold, was to their wretched fellow captives. 

Perhaps some of my readers may suppose, that the 
worst consequence of suspicion, or of an imputation 
of contumacy, would be the having French soldiers 
quartered in their houses, in order to inforce discovery 
or compliance : a consequence certainly dreadful 
enough, especially to those who have wives or 
daughters : but unless we are treated better than 
Frenchmen are in like cases, torture or death may 
be probably superadded to that odious mode of 
exaction. 

The report that Toussaint was tortured to death, with 
a view to extort a difcovery of the treasures which he 
was supposed to have hid in St. Domingo, and that his 
hapless wife shared the same fate, seems not to be im- 
probable. By recent accounts from that island, it ap- 
pears, that the suspicion of his having buried wealth 
to a large amount, in a spot known only to himself, or 
to those in his most secret confidence, certainly did 
prevail with the French party. But if this crime be 



40 

doubtful, not so the murder, upon the same sordid 
principle, of M. Fedon, a white man, as well as a 
Frenchman, whose case may be worth attention. 

General Rochambeau, finding that one of his last 
requisitions of money from the inhabitants of Cape 
Francois collective!}', was not sufficiently productive, 
proceeded to assess individual merchants, at the sums 
of which he thought them to be still possesssed; and M. 
Fedon, being a merchant of the first eminence of that 
place, was required to pay down immediately as his 
quota, 5,000 dollars in specie. He truly pleaded in- 
ability to comply; and gave a reason somewhat similar 
to that which an unfortunate Englishman might allege, 
in the case which I wish to illustrate. — His whole funds, 
the goods in his warehouses, excepted, had been in- 
vested in bills drawn upon the French government, for 
public services in that colony, under the authority of 
the general himself, or his predecessor; which bills had 
been returned protested. The same had been the fate 
of like paper to a large amount, in the hands of other 
merchants of the town; by which means general 
distress from the want of a circulating medium, 
had been produced at that calamitous juncture. — - 
But though the general fact was indisputable, the 
particular excuse was not accepted. M. Fedon was put 
under arrest ; and with peremptory orders to the officer 
who took charge of him, to shoot, him at three o'clock 
the same day, unless the money should be previously 
paid. 

It was in vain, that the unhappy merchant offer- 
ed his keys, to ascertain that he had no money in 
his coffers, and in vain that he offered to redeem hk 



41 

life with goods, or government bills, to any amount. 
Neither his offers nor complaints were regarded ; and 
the money not being brought forward by the appointed 
hour, he was led forth and actually shot on the public 
parade, pursuant to the General's order. His counts 
ing- house and warehouses were then taken possession of 
by the same tyrannic government, and, on a strict search, 
the cash found there amounted to about live dollars. 

This transaction, which through the loud complaints 
of a brother of the deceased, and of his mercantile 
friends, is quite notorious in the West Indies, and 
America, and which if I mistake not, was either men- 
tioned, or referred to, in the orlicial dispatches of our 
naval officers, employed in the reduction of the Cape, 
has never been disavowed by Pvochambeau; and his 
impatience to go from this country to France on his 
parole, is a proof that he apprehended no punishment 
for so foul a murder, though the complaints of M. 
Fedon the brother are known to have made their way 
to the Thuilleries. In fact, lie threatened all the mer- 
chants at the Cape, French or American, with similar 
treatment; and would no doubt have followed up the 
dreadful precedent, but fortunately, the only subsequent 
assessment which he had time to make before his ex- 
pulsion from the island, did not exceed a sum, which, 
by making a common stock of all their resources, the 
merchants were able to pay. 

Were it not for the rigorous and unprecedented 
restraints imposed upon the press, in every country un- 
der Buonaparte's power or influence, there would proba- 
bly be no difficulty in citing many instances of similar 
oppression in Europe 3 and even in France itself: but 



42 

the ciimes of his interior government, are always pel* 
petrated in silence, except when it becomes necessarv 
to divulge them for some political purpose; and even 
then, care is taken to put every gloss upon them 
that state-craft can devise. Torture and death may 
very probably have been the secret fate of hundreds, 
who have been made the victims of this frightful des- 
potism, whether upon motives of policy, avarice, or 
revenge. 

o 

Here, the rapacious spirit of the victors, excited by the 
expectation of inexhaustible spoil, and abetted by a long 
cherished lust of vengeance, would take its most direful 
range; and horrors would ensue, at the report of which 
our fellow vassals on the continent might stand aghast, 
forgetting their own sufferings, in their pity of misera- 
ble England. — Alas, those unhappy nations now bit- 
terly repent their own supineness and folly, and regard 
us with envy, because we have still the power of escap- 
ing the torments, to which they are irretrievably doom- 
ed. How would they rejoice to be again as we now 
are, in a capacity to defend their liberties, though at 
the cost of every painful sacrifice, and every arduous 
effort of patriotism, which they fatally shrunk from 

before. 

« Quam v'ellent asthere in alto, 

Nunc et pauperism, et duros perferre labores !" 
Let us cease in time to follow their example, that 
•we may not be partakers of their plagues. 

Sect. 7. Rigorous and merciless government that 
would certainly ensue. 
In England, various motives would stimulate our 
new masters to more than their usual excesses* 



43 

Could we be fortunate enough, even in the total 
surrender of public and individual property, to satisfy 
our spoilers that no more remained behind, still rage 
and revenge would claim their promised prey. Has 
not Napoleon solemnly declared, that the last of his 
combined enemies, shall expiate the offence of them 
all, and feel the full weight of his vengeance ? Has he 
not repeatedly held out allurements to the army des- 
tined to invade us, such as plainly imply engagements 
to give us up to the rapine and violence of his soldiers ? 
When was he known to be less cruel in act than in 
promise, and what ground has England to expect that 
his barbarous nature will relent in her case alone? 

It is a peculiar characteristic of this insolent Con- 
queror, to treat every opposition to his purposes by 
foreign patriots, whether Sovereigns, Ministers, Ge- 
nerals, or private persons, as a reproach and a crime. 
Does an illustrious veteran retire mortally wounded 
from the field, with the wreck of an army which he 
had gallantly commanded, his loyalty and courage are 
made reasons for spoiling his domains, and excluding 
him from the tomb of his ancestors. Does a gallant 
youth of high birth and early reputation, nobly perish 
in battle, a martyr to the cause of bis Country, Na- 
poleon is too crafty to deny some praise to the Soldier 
but the memory of the Patriot, is treated with the 
most vindictive censures, and insolent derision. His 
ebullitions of rage against that gallant officer Sir 
Sidney Smith, and his less impotent malice toward our 
unfortunate countryman Captain Wright, are speci- 
mens of the same spirit. 



44 

But why do I dwell on inferior instances, when de- 
posed Monarchs, nay their unhappy Queens, though 
the graces of beauty in distress, might aid the sympathy 
due to fallen royalty, are grossly insulted by this un- 
feeling man, for having dared to resist his arms. He, 
who punishes with death the publication of strictures 
on hiso^n unworthy conduct, by men who owed him 
no allegiance, fills every newspap r with his coarse abuse 
of Sovereigns, who ought to be sufficiently protected by 
the respect due to long hereditary majesty, and to the 
grandeur of those thrones in which they lately sat; but 
who would find with every liberal mind a still more 
secure protection, in pity for their unparalleled misfor- 
tunes, and their extreme distress. It would seem as if 
this audacious man arrogated to himself a natural right 
to be Lord of the human species; regarding his usurpa- 
tions only as the uniting possession to a title which be- 
longed to him before, and which it was always treason 
to oppose. Certain it is, that patriotism, loyal- 
ty, and courage, which other conquerors have re- 
spected in their foes, are with him unpardonable 
crimes. 

What then, has England to expect from this 
inexorable victor? No nation that he has yet sub- 
dued, has opposed him so obstinately and so long; and 
I trust the measure of our offences in this respect, is yet 
very far from being full. Here, too, that species of 
hostility which he most dreads and hates, though he 
employs it without scruple against .his enemies, has 
been peculiarly copious and galling. Instead of one 
Palm, he will here find a thousand, who have attempted 



45 

while there was yet time, to awaken their Country to 
a due sense of his crimes, and of our danger from his 
pestilent ambition. 

But it is needless perhaps to prove what he so freely 
and frequently avows If there be any sincerity in his 
lans:uaee, when there is no use in dissimulation, if 
either his Proclamations, his Bulletins, his Gazettes, 
his avowed, or unavowed, his deliberate, or hasty lan- 
guage, may be trusted, a deadly, acrimonious hatred to 
this Country, is the most settled and ardent feeling of 
his soul. He hates us as a people ; and would conquer 
us less even from ambition, than from anger and re- 
venge. 

It is to be feared, besides, that partly from his un- 
wearied misrepresentacions, and partly perhaps from cer- 
tain errors in our own conduct, he has made this senti- 
ment very popular in France; and that the severest 
treatment, which as a conquered people, we could pos- 
sibly receive, would expose him to no censure at home, 
much less be unacceptable to the enraged " Army of 
England/' 

It would not, after all, perhaps, be possible for Fo- 
reigners to govern us without a rod of iron, while the 
memory of our beloved liberties was recent, and custom 
had not yet taught us to cany our chains with patience. 

A free people when conquered, and placed under aa 
arbitrary government, must be kept in awe by a dis- 
cipline peculiarly sttict and severe, till their high spirit 
shall be subdued j like the wild native of the foiest, 
which must be domesticated and tamed, by a severity 
of treatment, such as the spaniel never requires. 

Above all, every open act of sedition or m,subordi- 



IB 

nation among such a people, must be terribly chastised. 
An illustration of this may be found in our own treat- 
ment of the Koromantyn negroes, or natives of the 
Gold Coast ; as explained by Mr. Bryan Edwards, in 
his History of the West-Indies. Among all the dif- 
ferent nations, and tribes of Africans, whom we reduce 
to a slavery unknown in their native land, by making 
them work for life under the whips of our drivers, the 
Koromantyns, from their martial sdirit, and perhaps 
from a peculiar degree of civil liberty possessed by them 
in their native country, are found, by far, the hardest 
to break in, or to season, as it is called, to the duties 
of West India bondage. Other negroes quietly sub- 
mit, though they die by great numbers in the process; 
but the Koromantyns, as we learn from Mr. Edwards, 
are so intolerant of the yoke, as often to escape from it 
by self-murder. 

They are naturally, therefore, very apt to resist the 
master's sovereign authority ; and sometimes form 
bold, though impotent conspiracies, or desperate re- 
volts; and the consequence is, that the people of Ja- 
maica and ether islands, have thought it right to make, 
in such cases, the most dreadful examples, roasting 
the insurgents to death by slow fires, or hanging them 
up alive in irons, to perish on a gibbet.* 

* Edwards's History of the West Indies, Vol. 2, Book 4, Chap. 
3. The following is an account of one case of this kind, of which 
he was an eye witness. " Of those who were clearly proved to 
" have been concerned in the murders committed at Ballard's 
" Valley, one was condemned to be burnt, and the other two to 
" be hanged rip alive in irons, and left to perish in that dreadful 
" situation. 

6 



m 

That Frenchmen would follow precedents so hor- 
rible as these, in punishing English insurgents, is per- 
haps more than we have reason to apprehend; but the 
example proves, that dreadful severities would be used ; 
for we should certainly be, in comparison with ether 
subjected nations, what the Koromantyns are, in com- 
parison with other Africans, when carried into slavery 
by our merchants. The plea of necessity will be found 
here, as well as in Jamaica; for when a whole people 
is reduced to slavery, the more abhorrent to their na- 
tures that condition is, the more fatal would be the 
effects of unsubdued resistance. 

" The wretch that was burnt, was made to sit on the ground, 
*' and his body being chained to an iron stake, the fire was ap- 
" plied to his feet. He uttered not a groan, and saw his legs re- 
" duced to ashes with the utmost firmness and composure. After 
" which, one of his arms by some means getting loose, he snatch- 
'* ed a brand from the fire that was consuming him, and flung it 
" in the face of the executioner. 

" The two that were hung up alive, were indulged, at their 
" own request, with a hearty meal before they were suspended on 
u the gibbet, which was erected in the parade of the town of 
" Kingston. From that time until they expired, they never ut- 
u tered the least complaint, except only of cold in the night; but 
" diverted themselves all day long in discourse with their country* 
u men, who were permitted, very improperly, to surround the 
" gibbet. On the seventh day, a notion prevailed among the 
" spectators, that one of them wished to communicate an impor- 
" tant secret to his master my near relation, who being in St. 
" Mary's parish, the commanding officer sent for me. I endea- 
" voured by means of an interpreter to let him know that I was 
*' present, but I conld not understand what he said in return. I 
" remember that both he and his fellow-sufferer laughed immode- 
" rately at something that occurred: I know not what. The next 
" morning one of them silently expired, as did the other on the 
" morning of the ninth day." (History of The West Indies, Vol. 
2, Book 4, Chap. 3. 



4S 

A French government too, would naturally form 
exaggerated notions of the danger arising from any 
effervescence of popular discontent. 

Under the old regime in Paris, mobs were some- 
times raised in the Fauxbourgs, during a scarcity of 
bread; when, instead of turning out the constables, 
reading a riot act> or even giving warning to disperse 
on the arrival of a military force, a troop of horse coolly 
rode in among them, and used the sabre, till the streets 
were cleared, at the expence of many lives. 

Since that period, the Parisian mobs have furnished 
some apology for their having been formerly confronted 
by such sanguinary means; and so far is Buonaparte 
from being disposed to brook the smallest demonstra- 
tion of popular discontent, that he lately told the citi- 
zens of Berlin, their Sovereign had deserved to be de- 
throned, because he had not taken vengeance of them 
for breaking the windows of an obnoxious minister. 

The British multitude would have a new lesson to 
learn therefore, or would be fatally misunderstood by 
their new masters. They would have to renounce, 
their hisses, their cat-calls, their Green men, and broad- 
faced orators, and must be careful how they even huz- 
zaed too loudly, should they still find any subject of 
applause. A tenth part of the tumult of the late 
Westminster election, would be enough to cover our 
pavements, with the dead or wounded, and tinge our 
sewers with blood. 

The clubs, and numerous associations which now 
abound among our middle and lower classes, would 
also be liable to dangerous misconstructions. 

They would, no longer, indeed, have any of those 



49 

interest iog objects of union, the forming funds for 
mutual support in sickness, old age, or temporary loss 
of employment, the securing reversionary interests to 
surviving relatives, or any of the various other useful 
purposes, to which our national taste for clubs has been 
made subservient. The wreck of our funds, would 
have ruined ail these humble but benefice. :t establish- 
ments ; and the prudence of the Poor, disappointed in 
its present confidence, would no more listen to the 
advice of the benevolent, so as to provide, by timely 
sacrifices, against the ordinary evils of their station. 
But convivial, and other private motives, of union, 
might still draw men together in numbers alarming to 
the jealous) of a foreign Government -, the ignorance 
or malevolence of a spy might misrepresent their inten- 
tions; and Englishmen, might soon find it dangerous 
to assemble beyond the limits of a family circle, though 
they should abstain from the consolation of lamenting 
together over their wrongs, and the sorrows of their 
Country. 

Our appetite for public news, and our propensity to 
political discussion, would give further occasion of fre- 
quent offence to the ruling powers, and often provoke 
the scourge of a rigid police, till we had learnt the hard 
lesson to forget the liberty of speech, as well as the 
freedom of the press. 

But it would be endless to anticipate all the instances, 
in which our present civil happiness, would then be- 
come a source of pre-eminent misery. Every distin- 
guishing feature of our national character, would be 
offensive, or alarming to our new masters. An entire 
revolution in our manners, our feelings, and opinions, 

E 



50 

must be effected, befote we could have such rest as the 
prostration ofhabitual servitude affords. Meantime if 
France has chastised other nations with whips, she would 
punish us with scorpions^ 

Among the direct and comprehensive modes of 
oppression, to which rich and poor would be equally 
subjected, military conscriptions are of course to be 
reckoned. It cannot be imagined, that our Conqueror 
would treat us in this respect better than his other pro- 
vinces : and as compulsory service in foreign Countries, 
has been hitherto unknown to us, we should feel this 
species of tyranny also, more keenly than our neighbours. 
The flower of the British youth, of all ranks, would 
soon be compelled to take up the musket, and to bleed 
and die, in distant climates, for the glory of the Great 
Nation. But this is a subject which I shall have occa- 
sion to reconsider, in one of its most striking relations - 7 
I will not therefore enlarge upon it now. 

Sect. 8. Subversion of our religious liberties. 

Servants of God, sincere professors of the religion of 
Jesus, suppose not that in this rapid and imperfect 
sketch of the calamities with which French conquest 
would overwhelm our Country, I have forgotten, or 
mean to pass unnoticed, the grand interests of piety 
and virtue. 

On these, however, I need not much insist ; fof 
men who know how to value them, are not among the 
listless or careless observers of the scourge that is im.~ 
pending over us. Neither need they in general to be 
taught, how closely the cause of religion is associated 
witii the liberty and independency of our country. 
The church of Christ, indeed, is " built upon * 



51 

•rock, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.'' 
The word of Omnipotence is pledged for its security, 
and it may therefore defy the floods of civil revolution; 
and the conflagrations of conquest. But it pleases 
divine providence, to accomplish its purposes in human 
affairs, chiefly by human hands ; and though true reli- 
gion has never been propagated by arms, yet the de- 
fensive courage of nations, has sometimes been employ- 
ed as the instrument of its protection. Witness the 
glorious reign of our own Elizabeth, and the cotempo- 
raiy triumphs of religious liberty in Holland. 

We are not now menaced by a Philip the second ; 
but have a far more dangerous enemy; and if any man 
suppose that he would long spare our religious, after 
trampling on our civil freedom, he must have examined 
very carelessly the character, and the policy of Buona- 
parte. 

That this man of blood, this open apostate from 
Christianity, is not what he has the impious grimace to 
affect to be, a truly penitent son of the Roman church, 
and zealous for her superstitions, I fully admit. Be- 
yond doubt he still is, what he was by education, a 
despiser of revealed religion in all its forms ; and pro- 
bably, as such men commonly are, profoundly ignorant 
of its nature. 

But that as an engine of state, lie sets a high value 
upon the Romish faith, has been evident from his 
conduct, ever since he first seized upon the sovereign 
power in France. He perceived that the influence of 
the Priesthood, and the authority of an infallible 
Church, might be made useful supporters of his throne; 
• since by their aid, he might remove from the minds 



52 

of the pious, the horror they felt at his usurpation; and 
even transfer to himself, the benefit of those religious 
sanctions, which bound them to their lawful Sovereign. 

But though he could entirely govern the Pontiff, as 
well as the Bishops and Clergy, there was one great 
drawback on the immediate effect of this policy, in the 
general infidelity and ignorance of the people ; for 
while Popery and Christianity had been subverted 
together, in the minds of multitudes who were once 
believers in the Gospel, few among that great part of 
the nation, which had been born or educated since the 
Revolution, had been at all instructed in religion of any 
kind. He had in great measure, therefore, to rebuild 
that engine of Popish superstition, with which he was 
desirous to work. 

To this end he has long assiduously laboured : and, 
among other means, has lately procured a new cate- 
chism to be drawn up, and established by the papal 
authority, for the use of the French church, in which 
all the old errors and superstitions of popery are 
strongly inculcated, and maintained, by such miserable 
sophistry, as is commonly used in their support. la 
this respect it is well adapted to the capacities of boys, 
and of adults in the lower ranks of society ;* and on 

* I have Dot room for any long specimen of its stile; but the 
following extracts, of some of the propositions of faith, may 
suffice to prove that Napoleon's popery, has not at all degenerated 
from the standard of Leo the 10th. 

Q. What is the sacrament of the Eucharist ? 

A. The Eucharist is a sacrament which contains, really and 
substantially, the body, blood, soul, and divinity of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, under the forms or appearance of bread and wine* 



53 

the whole, a more ingenious composition for his purpose 
could not have been framed. With the solemn sanc- 

Q. Why after having spoken to God, do you address the holy 
virgin ? 

A. That she may offer our prayerjs to God; and that she may 
assist us by interceding with him For us. 

Q. Is it good and useful to pray to the saints? 

A. It is very good, and very useful, to pray to them. 

Q. Why do you add the satisfaction of the saints, to that of 
Jesus Christ ? 

A. Because of the goodness of God, who is willing, on the 
behalf of Ins most pious servants, to forgive the other. 

Q. Why besides? 

A. Because the satisfaction of the saints are united to that of 
Jesus Christ, whence they derive all their value. 

Q. When aid Jesus Christ give the priests the power of remitting 
sin? 

A. When he said to them in the person of the Apostles, " receive 
the Holy Ghost;" sins shall be forgiven to those, to whom you 
shall remit them., and they shall be retained to those, to whom you 
retain them. 

Q. Do you believe only what is written ? 

A. I believe also what the Apostles have taught by word of 
mouth, and which has always been believed in the Catholic Church. 

Q. How do you call this doctime? 

A. I call it the unwritten word of God, or tradition. 

Q. Why is the Catholic Church called Roman? 

A. Because the Church established at Rome is the head, and th« 
mother of all other Churches. 

Q. Why do you ascribe this honour to it? 

A. Because at Rome the chair of St. Peter was established, and 
of the Popes his successors. 

Q. What do you understand by the words, " I believe the 
Church?" 

A. That the Church may always continue; that all it teaches 
must be believed, and that to obtain eternal life, one must live and 
die in its bosom. 



tion of the Pope's Bull, an archiepiscopal mandate, and 
an Imperial decree, in its front, it is now carefully cir- 
culated, and assiduously taught, in every parish of the 
empire. 

If it were possible, on a contemplation of Buona- 
parte's general conduct and character, to question 
whether superstition, or policy, had kindled his zeal for 
restoring the faith, he has, by the spirit of this curious 
instrument, removed all doubt on the subject. A gen- 
tleman who has just published an English translation 
of it, justly remarks, that " the moral duties which it 
" specifies, are all on one side ; that what inferiors 
" owe to their superiors, is minutely detailed, and 
" sternly enjoined ; but that what superiors owe to 
ii their inferiors, will be sought for in vains for not a, 
'•• word on the subject is to be found."* 

Q. Why must we believe all that the Church teaches?, 

A. Because it is enlightened by the Holy Ghost. 

Q. Is the Catholic Church then infallible? 

A. Yes; and those who reject its decisions are heretics, 

Q. What does faith teach us concerning indulgences? 

A. That the Church has received from Jesus Christ the power 
of gran tins; them, and that the use of them is very salutary to 
Christians ? 

Q. Why are indulgences so salutary? 

A. Because they are established to moderate the rigours of the 
temporal pains due to sin. 

N. B. This is explained by another article to relate to Purgatory. 

Q. Is it necessary to know precisely how this rigour is mo- 
derated? 

A. No: it is sufficient to believe that a good mother like the 
Church, gives nothing to her children, but what really serves to 
relieve them in this world and the next. 

» Introduction to this Catechism by Mr, Rogue. 



55 

So much for the champion of equality, the demo- 
cratical Buonaparte ! 

But then, he has carefully taught the duties, which 
both high and low, rich and poor, owe to his heaven- 
delegated self; and that too as a branch of the Deca- 
logue ! ! ! The reader's curiosity will be still more 
strongly excited, when I add, that it is the fourth com- 
mandment, whkh has happily provided buttresses to 
the throne of this usurper: but it is right to explain, 
that as Papists prudently omit the second, the fourth 
commandment, in their table, is that which enjoins us 
$o honour our parents. 

Cardinal Caprara, the legate a latere at Paris, and 
Cardinal de Belloy, archbishop of Paris, and " Mem* 
ber of the Legion of honour" have distinguished their 
pious ingenuity, by the following very clear exposition, 
of what Protestants call the fifth commandment. 

Q. What are the duties of Christians in regard to 
the princes who govern them, and in particular what 
are our duties toxvards Napoleon the first our emperor ? 

A. Christians owe to the princes who govern them, 
and, we owe in particular to Napoleon the first our 
emperor \ love, respect, obedience, military service, 
and the tributes ordained for the preservation and the 
defence of the empire, and of his throne; besides we 
owe him fervent prayers for his safety, and for the 
temporal and spiritual prosperity of the state. 

Q. Why are we bound to all these duties towards 
our emperor ? 

A. First, because God, who creates empires, and 



.; 



6 



who distributes them according to his will, in loading 
our emperor with favours, whether in peace or war, 
has established him our sovereign, has made him the 
minister of his power, and his image on earth. To 
honour and serve our emperor, is therefore to honour 
and serve God. himself. 

Q. Are there not particular motives which ought to 
attach us more strongly to Napoleon the first, our 
emperor ? 

A, Yes : for he it is whom God has raised up, in 
difficult circumstances, to re-establish the public wor- 
ship of the holy religion of our fathers, and to be the 
protector of it; he has restored and preserved public 
order, by his profound and active wisdom; he defends 
the state, by his powerful arm; and is become the 
anointed of the lord, by the consecra- 
tion which he has received from the 
chief Pontiff, head of the universal 
Church. 

Q. What are we to think of those who should fail 
in their duty towards the emperor? 

A. According to St. Paul the Apostle, they would 
resist the order established by God himself ; and 
would render themselves worthy of eternal damna- 
tion. 

Q. Are the duties by which we are bound towards 
our emperor, equally binding towards his legitimate 
successors. 

A. Yes, undoubtedly; for we read in sacred scrip- 
ture, that God the Lord of heaven and earth, by a 
disposition of his supreme will, and by his providence* 



57 

gives empires not only to a person in particular, but 
also to his family.* 

It would have been creditable to these worthy Car- 
dinals, if they could have left out the sixth command- 
ment, as well as the second ; for it certainly follows too 
close on the commentary, by which this man of blood, 
this destroyer of the house of his lawful and pious so- 
vereign, is described as a delegate of heaven. 

There is such a combat between horror, and the 
sense of ridicule in the mind, upon reading these im- 
pious absurdities, that we cannot fully give way to 
either emotion; and it therefore seems almost irreve- 
verent towards the sacred text, to quote them; yet it 
is necessary that English protestants, and even pious 
papists, should see how religion is likely to be prosti- 
tuted and profaned, wherever this vile hypocrite is 
master. 

Infinitely more does he disparage our common faith, 

* The following curious apology is offered by the Cardinal arch- 
bishop, in his prefatory letter, for thus prostituting religion to 
sanction usurpation and treason, 

After intimating that the catechism, as far as relates to 
the doctrines of the Catholic church, is taken from the writings 
of the celebrated bishop of Meaux, (that zealous defender of po* 
pery, against the protestants, in the days of Louis XIV.) he adds, 
" The duties of subjects towards the princes who govern them, 
" are more fully explained in it than they had ever been before; 
" because the circumstances of the times in which we live, re- 
" semble not those of the times which have preceded them ; 
* l because christians have never feared when circumstances seemed 
f* to require it, to declare their sentiments concerning the powers 
" established by God to rule the world/' A most valorous 
instance, to be sure we here have, of this christian sincerity and 
freedom ! ! ! 



58 

by acknowledging the Messiah at Paris, than he did by 
denying him in Egypt. 

This catechism, promulgated a few months ago, is 
but one of a train of concurrent measures, all directed to 
the same political end. Buonaparte has not only taken 
pains to restore the former superstitions, at the expense 
of sneers from his philosophical friends, but sacrifices 
much time, of which unhappily he is a great economist, 
irr attending the celebration of mass, and the other 
rites of the popish communion. He even labours to 
restore, what after the .public detection of the impos- 
tures of priestcraft in. the days of the revolution, we 
might have supposed incapable of being renewed, — the 
popular reverence for relicks : for he has lately trans- 
ported, with solemn pomp, a crown of thorns, pretended 
to be the identical one worn by our Saviour, from Italy 
to France. How indefatigable he was, in compelling 
the aged Pontiff to assist at his coronation, and anoint 
him with his holy chrism, the public cannot have for- 
got; andithe catechism strongly teaches us the reason. 

Nor is his disregard to the temporal rights of the 
Pope, a trait at all inconsistent with the rest of this 
policy ; for the most superstitious sovereigns of France, 
have not scrupled to adopt a similar conduct. It 
lias been the ordinary tone of the Gallican church, 
even among its most pious and orthodox members, 
to limit the political power of their holy Father, how- 
ever fuHy they admitted his supremacy in questions of 
lakh. 

In short, Napoleon has been steadily aiming at ac- 
quiring, in the eyes of the vulgar, the character of & 
good catholic, and sincere son of the church, 



59 

" But Napoleon,*' it may be objected, " has not 
* yet shewn himself a persecutor of the reformed 
* 4 churches." — Certainly not, — it would have been too 
gross and sudden an apostacy from his philosophical 
creed, not utterly to disgust and outrage all those men 
of science, whom it was his policy and vanity to attach 
to him ; and what was more dangerous, even the offi- 
cers of his army. 

Some of the latter, were said openly to have express- 
cd, at the first, their contempt for those religious so- 
lemnities which they saw the chief Consul attending; 
and educated as they for the most part were, it may 
probably be some time, before the spirit of open and 
contemptuous scepticism will be sufficiently subdued in 
the army, to make persecution entirely convenient. 

But already the conceited French infidels are recon- 
ciled to the policy of cheating the ignorant populace 
with the errors to which they are foolishly prone, and re- 
building the fabric of superstition, for the sake of it* 
civil effects. Already, as may be perceived by Napo- 
leon's Te Deums, his high masses, and canting pro., 
iessions of piety, in his bulletins or general orders, the 
politic hypocrisy which he practises is beginning to be 
popular in the army. It will be but one, and an easy 
step more, to profess himself the restorer of the true- 
Catholic Faith, and to obtain that glory, to which Charles 
the Fifth, Philip the Second, and Louis the Fourteenth, 
vainly in the plenitude of their greatness aspired, by 
the utter extirpation of schism and heresy in the Chris- 
tian church. 

It is quite unnecessary to suppose, as a motive for 
such an enterprise in the Emperors mind, any real 



GO 

preference of the Romish faith, in opposition to the 
reformed religions : and yet it is highly probable that 
such a predilection exists. It is a strikingly uniform 
..characteristic of the zealous enemies of revelation, even 
among those who have laboured most to discredit it in 
protestant countries, that they have a pre-eminent aver- 
sion to those forms of faith, which are the least assailable 
by the shafts of wit on the score of folly and superstition. 

An attentive reader of Hume or Gibbon, will per- 
ceive that they have much more indulgence for the 
grossest errors and abuses of popery, than for the 
rational faith of a sincere protestant Christian. If the 
former are ever mentioned by them in strong terms, 
or depicted in high colouring, it is only for the sake 
of insidiously confounding them with the latter; and 
thereby holding up all belief in revelation, to ridicule or 
abhorrence. Hume will be found much more sparing 
than other historians, of his censures on the persecu- 
ting bigots of the Romish church, in the unhappy days 
of Mary ; and equally distinguished by his severity 
against the excesses of the reformers, in the following 
reigns; and on the whole, he is evidently partial to 
popery, though this characteristic may escape the no- 
tice of such readers as take a much higher interest in 
constitutional, than theological discussions. His malice 
against religious principle in general, is conveniently 
disguised, under a just severity towards those political 
errors, with which, in that age, it was too often asso- 
ciated. 

As to Gibbon, he manifested, both in his literary, and 
private character, the affinity between Romish supersti- 
tion, and philosophical scepticism. He was a convert 



6i ! H- 

to Popery, before he became an unbeliever ; and 
though the questions between protestant and catholic, 
did not lie in his historical path, it is not difficult -to 
perceive, that he, like Hume, is jealous of all mediums 
between his own philosophy, and a blind devotion to 
the tenets of an infallible church. Even in regard to 
questions in which the generality of Protestants and 
Roman Catholics are on the same side, against sects 
whom they both condemn for attempting a compromise 
between natural and revealed religion, the partialities 
of Gibbon are on the opposite side to those on which 
we might have expected to find them. If he prefers 
Julian to Constantine, he prefers also the Athanasians 
to the Arians ; and to none of his controversial oppo- 
nents was he more bitter and contemptuous,, than to 
the Socinian and philosophical Priestly. 

A living writer of the same school, has laboured 
openly to defend against the opinions of his protestant 
countrymen, both the practice of auricular confes- 
sion, and masses for the dead. 

Nor is there in all this, any thing strange or uncom- 
mon, The Deist is naturally indignant at those 
Christians, who would presume to rival him in the 
field of reason, and to exercise as freely as himself the 
right of private judgment, while they nevertheless 
admit the truth and divine authority of the Scriptures. 
He regards them as hostile borderers; and hates them, 
because he dreads them, more than the blind bigots of 
a gross superstition. 

For these and other reasons, it would be childish to 
imagine, that there is any security in the irreligion of 



62 

Buonaparte, against his denying liberty of conscience to 
his subjects, when political expediency shall seem to 
him to demand, or not to forbid, such oppression. 
Indeed, it seems to me, that a purpose of enforcing by 
his power a uniformity of faith, and submission to the 
Church of Rome, throughout his dominions, is, either 
by inadvertency or design, pretty plainly intimated, in 
the solemn instruments prefixed to his new catechism. 
But let the reader judge for himself. 

" The constant prayer of the Church, dearly beloved 
* c brethren is, that the doctrine of Christ, being essen- 
* ( tially one, may be uniformly taught; and that 
" Christians having the same sentiments and the 
€< same belief may every where use the same Ian- 
n guage. In pursuance of this object, and in obe- 
" dience to a previous law, conformable to the desire 
4< of the Church, a catechism has been composed de- 
" signed to be the only one used in all the Churches of 
" the French Empire" 

Again — " The Prince under whose government we 
iX live, though raised by Providence to the pinnacle of 
" human power, glories to acknowledge that priests, 
c; and not emperors, are to preach the doctrines of tbfe 
<f holy Church. He unites with one of his illustrious 
" predecessors, xvho sat on the throne of France, in 
<c saying, that if the duty of bishops is to make known 
<c with freedom the truth which they have received 
" from Jesus Christ, that of the prince is to hear it 
" from them founded On the scriptures, and to enforce 
" it with all his might" 

So runs the pastoral letter or mandate of Cardinaf 



63 

Belloy. In the Imperial decree that follows, the cate- 
chism is directed to be used " in all the Catholic 
" churches of the empire," a change of phrase, which 
seems to manifest that the generality of the former 
instrument, as descriptive of the Emperor's design, had 
not passed unnoticed. Why then was it not altered; 
unless for the sake of intimating to zealous Catholics, 
that the ulterior purpose was wider than the immediate 
practice? But the allusion to that persecuting bigot, 
Louis XIV, and the emphatic words that follow, seem 
to mark the same intention more clearly. 

Whether this construction be admitted or not, the 
immediate practical moderation of a Government, 
which, in the nineteenth century, so anxiously incul- 
cates submission to the Church of Rome as essential to 
salvation, and openly brands as heretics all who deny 
its infallibility, is certainly very suspicious. Napoleoc 
it is true, for the present, tolerates the reformed re- 
ligion in Holland, and even in France; but did not 
Charles the fifth, do the same in Germany, till he was 
able conveniently to throw off the mask? Nay, did not 
Louis the fourteenth;, profess himself the protector of 
the protestant states of that country, when it suited 
the views of his ambition? Let us look forward theft 
to a state of things, alas ! too nearly accomplished, 
when Europe will have no more power of resistance to 
this imperious man. Let us suppose him master of 
England, as well as of the Continent; and ask -our- 
selves what will then be the barrier of religious freedom, 
m this once fortunate Island. 

He has found the utility of that alliance between 
the throne and the altar, against which, in «ft*- 



64 

mon with his Jacobin friends he once so loudly 
inveighed. But to what altar, will he look for support ? 
Not surely to one on which he cannot sacrifice, and 
the votaries of which will never repair to his own. He 
will, on the contrary, feel like most of his predecessors 
in the career of conauest. that an opposition in faith, 
may one day lead to a dismemberment of empire ; and 
that unity in Church-government, is a necessary but- 
tress to the stupendous fabrick of usurpation which he 
has raised. Such a unity can only be found, in restoring 
the universal supremacy of the See of Rome; and to 
him, the measure would be more inviting by far, than 
it ever was to any former son of the Church, however 
powerful, since he can have no fear that the Holy Father 
wiil ever dare to oppose his will. The keys of heaven 
on the contrary, will be. turned at his command; and 
enable him to secure with a triple bolt the fetters that 
.his arms have imposed. Without arrogating to him- 
self that divine legation as a teacher, which he already 
impiously assumes as a subverter of thrones, he might 
join like the Caliphs, the power of a spiritual, to that 
of his temporal empire. 

We may add to these considerations, that Buona- 
naparte, in preserving the religious liberties of Great Bri- 
tain, would have to maintain, not only a protestant 
episcopal Church, but the Presbyterian establishment 
of Scotland, the constitution of which would present 
to him the alarming image of popular and representa- 
tive Government; and also to tolerate those numerous 
sects of dissenters, whose interior organization and 
discipline, wear still more of a- democratical aspect : 
nor would his alarm be lessened, by the discovery that 



6> 

our protestant dissenters have at all times been deter- 
mined enemies to arbitrary power. 

Happily indeed, this has long ceased to be a distinc- 
tion between Englishmen; and since a well defined free- 
dom has limited the prerogative of our Kings, the throne 
has not had more faithful supporters, than have been 
found among dissenters from the established Church. 
In hatred to a foreign yoke, Britons of all religious 
denominations would be equally ardent ; but the 
tyrant might find in our civil history, and in the po- 
litical prejudices against sectaries, which still linger 
among us, as well as in the habits of some very po- 
pular religious societies, peculiar grounds of distrust. 

His dread of such sectarian associations however, 
would not be fatal to dissenters alone. If unwilling 
to preserve our present system of toleration to its full 
extent, the sure alternative would be the requiring an 
entire uniformity of faith and discipline. In him, as a 
Papist, it would be the only consistent course ; and be- 
sides, were the work of persecution once begun, resist- 
ance would soon push him into extremes against all 
who presumed to lay claim to liberty of conscience. 
The line of demarcation would not easily be drawn, 
between different heretical communions. 

Buonaparte, it may further be added, would proba- 
bly be led by his temper, as well as his policy, to put 
down all religious dissent from the creed which he 
deigns to profess. His imperious pride, and insatiable 
appetite for domination, would after the conquest of 
England, soon find no change of the high -flavoured 
food to which they have been used, but in subduing 
the consciences of mankind. 

F 



66 

The religious then, of every denomination among us 
have peculiar cause to tremble at the idea of our be- 
coming a province of France. The terrible scenes 
which were exhibited there, upon the revocation of the 
edict of Nantz, might soon be re-acted in England. 
Dungeons and tortures might be employed to subdue 
the courage of the faithful, and the reverend Bishops 
and Pastors of our Church, again be led out to a fiery 
trial in Smithfield. 

Sect. 9. Dreadful corruption of morals. 

If there be men, who without any concern for reli- 
gion, are really anxious about the interests of virtue, 
let them also, shudder at this prospect. 

The utter dissolution of morals in France, is a fact 
too fully attested to be disbelieved, even by those who 
do not perceive in it a necessary consequence of general 
and open infidelity. Vice, in her most licentious forms, 
abounds especially amongst the French military, who 
would of course be our principal guests. How indeed 
could it be otherwise, among officers and soldiers edu- 
cated like those who now serve in the armies of 
France ? Sixteen or seventeen years have now elapsed 
since the foundations of religion and morality were 
wholly broken up in that Country ; and but a very 
small part of its soldiers, can count twice as many 
years from their cradle; while a vast majority of them, 
are too young to remember any other than the present 
licentious times. Their ethics can have been acquired 
only in the Jacobin schools, or in the camp. As 
pupils of experience also, their lessons have been of 
^e worst sort. They have seen nothing but the 



67 

crimes and disorders of revolution at home; nothing 
but scenes of blood and rapacity abroad. 

Truly frightful is the thought, of having such men 
spread over every district of our now happy island, 
and executing among us all the functions of an in- 
terior police; yet such would certainly be our lot. 
They would not only keep guard in our cities, but be 
quartered in our country towns and villages, where few 
decent houses would escape the pollution of a private 
soldier or two, as its constant billeted guests ; ex- 
cept perhaps the mansions of the village squires, or the 
chief inhabitants of the towns, which might have thr 
honour of receiving the officers. 

The latter, would of course enter into every circle of 
public and private society, and give the lead wherever 
they appeared ; not only by the means of wealth and 
splendour, of which they would be the chief or sole 
possessors, and by the natural confidence of their 
characters, but by the aid of that timid and servile 
deference which the terror of their power would in- 
spire. Much would be to be dreaded from the di- 
rect effects of their libertinism ; but still more from 
their pestilent example. We should soon become 
as vicious as themselves; or rather more so. Like 
the poor enslaved Africans in our colonies, we should 
imitate the immoralities of our masters, and add to 
them the vices of servility. 

It would soon be in vain to search for those modest 
and lovely young women, . who now captivate our 
youth; for those virtuous matrons, who are the blessings 
of our manhood and our age ; or for those moral feel- 
ings in either sex, which are the guards of domestic 

F 2 



68 

nonoar, purity and happiness. That probity of cha- 
racter also, which has distinguished the middle ranks of 
Englishmen, in commercial and private life, that abhor- 
rence of falsehood and fraud, in our intercourse with our 
equals, that disdain of servility, in our demeanour to- 
wards the great, that generosity, which, with one strange 
and sad exception, gives to the oppressed an advocate 
in every British bosom, would soon be found no more. 
The next generation, if not the present, would be all 
frenchified, and debased, even below the vile standard 
of our oppressors. Yes, Englishmen! your children 
would become in morals, as well as in allegiance, French- 
men ! I can say to you nothing worse. 



When I contemplate all these sure and tremendous 
consequences of a conquest by France — the exchange 
of the best of sovereigns, for the worst of tyrants ; of 
the happiest constitution that ever blessed the social 
union of mankind, for a rapacious military despotism; 
of the purest administration of justice upon earth, for 
barefaced corruption, unbridled violence, and oppres- 
sion in its foulest forms; of unrivalled wealth and pros- 
perity, for unparalleled misery and ruin ; when I re- 
flect on the direful means, by which this conquest must 
be accomplished, and the still more dreadful means by 
which it must be maintained ; and when I add to this 
black catalogue, the horrors of religious persecution, 
and that general corruption of morals, which would 
probably, ensue ; I stand aghast at the frightful prospect. 



69 

" Who shall live/' I could exclaim in the words of 
scripture, " when God doeth this thing?" 

It reminds me of the vengeance denounced by pro- 
phecy against the great commercial city, the Babylon 
that is yet to be destroyed. " Babylon the great, is 
*' fallen, is fallen, and is become the habitation of de- 
" vils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage 
" of every unclean bird. How much she hath glo- 
" rified herself, and lived deliciously, so much tor- 
*' merit and sorrow give her: for she saith in her 
(i heart, I sit a Q^een, and am no widow, and shall 
" see no sorrow, Therefore shall her plagues come in 
4i one day; death and mourning, a::d famine. And 
" the merchants of the earth shall weep and mourn 
" over her, for no man bu^ eth their merchandize any 
" more. The merchandize of gold, and silver, and 
" precious stones, and of pearls, and of fine linen, 
cc and purple, and silk, and scarlet, and all thyme 
" wood, and all manner of vessels of most precious 
" wood, and of brass, and iron, and marble, and 
" cinnamon, and odours, and ointments, and frank- 
ci incense, and wine, and oil, and fine flour, and 
< 4 wheat, and beasts, and sheep, and horses, and cha- 
" riots, and slaves, and souls of men, and the fruits 
" which thy soul lusted after, are departed from thee; 
" and all things which were dainty and goodly, are 
" departed from thee; and thou shalt find them no 
" more at all. The merchants of these things, which 
" were made rich by her, shall stand afar off for the 
u fear of her torment, weeping and wailing, and say- 
" ing, alas ! alas ! that great city, that was clothed in 
*' fine linen, and purple, and scarlet, and decked with 



70 

" gold, and precious stones, and pearls. For in one 
* c hour, so great riches is come to nought. And 
" every shipmaster, and all the company in ships, ami 
" sailors, and as many as trade by sea, stood afar off, 
c ' and cried when they saw the smoke of the burning, 
" saying what city is like unto this great city ? And 
<c they cast dust on their heads, and cried, weeping 
" and wailing, and saying, alas! alas! that great city, 
* c wherein were made rich all that had ships in the sea, 
" by reason of her costliness ; for in one hour is she 
" made desolate.*" 

* See the 18th chapter of the Revelations — The author, in thus 
availing himself of the forcible and awful language of inspiration, 
to express ideas which his mind in vain labours to convey, trusts 
that he shall not be accused- of presumptuously interpreting this 
prophecy, as predictive of the fate of his Country. He holds it 
vain, if not irreverent, to attempt prospective interpretations of 
that kind; and feels his own extreme incompetency to offer, even 
conjectures, on such a difficult subject.— Besides, this prophecy, is 
by most, if not all, the ablest protestant commentators, supposed 
to relate to the destruction of Papal Rome. 



PART II. 



Sect I. Of the Means by which these Dangers may 
be averted, 

THESE painful anticipations would be worse than 
useless, if the sad fate which seems to be impending 
over the country, were such as no possible efforts could 
prevent. 

I see not the wisdom of propagating alarm without 
any ulterior object ; or for the sake merely of discredit- 
ing the measures of a former government. But if the 
public be, as I conceive it in general is, unconscious 
of the true extent, and dreadful character, of those cala- 
mities with which we are menaced; and if the most 
arduous exertions, animated by a spirit of unbounded 
devotion to the cause of our country, can alone pre- 
serve us from destruction; a more important service 
to the state cannot be rendered, than to awaken the 
people to their danger. 

By a fatality, which seems like the mysterious work 
of a chastising Providence, the nations successively 
subdued by France, have had no adequate conceptions 
of the sad destiny which awaited them, till they have 
actually felt the yoke. Some of them have wilfully 
assisted her in forging their own chains \ and all have 



72 

been wanting in that resolution and ardour, with which 
so dreadful a foe ought to have been resisted. Their 
governments, perhaps, may have been chiefly in fault; 
but, except in the useless struggles of the brave Ca- 
labrians and Tyrolese, we have no where seen a popular 
energy equal to the occasion, but rather a torpor and 
indifference hard to be explained. 

It would seem as if their and our deadly enemy 
possessed, like the rattlesnake, whose destructive ma- 
lignity and contortive progress he imitates, the power of 
fascination. This pernicious reptile, being encumbered 
with a rattle, which, like the despotism of Napoleon, 
gives a wholesome alarm to all around him, would 
rarely be able to destroy the animals that are his ordinary 
victims, if it were not for a strange stupifying influ- 
ence which he is able to exert upon them, as soon as his 
fiery eyes have arrested theirs, and marked them for de- 
struction. From that moment, instead of frustrating, 
they favour, his murderous purpose Far from exerting ' 
their sure powers of resistance or escape, they await mo- 
tionless his approach ; or even by an unconscious suicide, 
rush upon his fatal fangs. The horrible tortures which 
ensue, can alone awaken them from the charm, Tra- 
vellers confidently assure us, that not only the squirrel, 
the racoon, and still larger animals, but even man him- 
self, is the victim of this strange fascination. It is added, 
that birds on the wing, are arrested in their flight, the 
moment their eye meets that of the rattlesnake on the 
earth below them; and that renouncing the security of 
an element in which this deadly enemy cannot reach 
them, they drop from the air into his voracious jaws. 
Of this last particular I should, I own, be incredulous, 



73 

but for the recollection that there are Englishmen, 
who would, by making peace at this juncture, lay open 
the sea to France ! 

If governments have been elsewhere blameable, for 
not informing the mind, and exciting in due time, 
the active courage of the people, the prodigy is not 
lessened, but only altered in its form. It is true, that 
under despotic governments, the popular spirit can 
have few spontaneous movements; but kings and mi* 
nisters, at least, have been fascinated by Buonaparte; 
and their superior means of information, add greatly to 
the wonder. 

In England, however, the government and the people 
mutually and strongly act upon each other. It is just 
therefore to say, that a want of energy in preparing for 
our defence, must be the fault of both; and with the 
voice of an independent, but loyal Englishman, I will 
endeavour to point out duties which each has hitherto 
neglected. 

But before I proceed to suggest the public measures, 
which appear to me essential to the salvation of the 
country, let me briefly, but firmly, protest against one, 
which would greatly aggravate its dangers. 

Sect. 2. Ought we to make Peace tvith France ? 

We lately endeavoured to find a palliative for the 
evils of the times, by an immediate termination of the 
war; and happy is it for England, perhaps, that the 
experiment did not succeed. 

Events have since occurred, which seem to remove 
all danger of the same attempt being speedily resumed • 
and yet there are persons, who, by a strange inversion 
of what appears to me right reasoning, regard the ruin 



74 

of the Continent, and the extreme aggrandizement of 
France, as arguments for a maritime peace. It may not 
be wholly useless, therefore, to condemn the late abor- 
tive attempt; though I trust, that Auerstadt, and the 
fall of Prussia, have now evinced the danger of a line 
of policy, which Austerlitz, and the peace of Presburgh, 
might have sufficed to preclude. 

To censure a great political measure of the present 
able and enlightened cabinet, is perhaps presumptuous 
in a private individual; and is a work which I perform 
with regret. I am conscious that the awful considerations 
which may weigh in the choice between a pacific or war- 
like system, cannot be perfectly known to the public at 
large; and the distinguished talents now united in 
the ministry, certainly challenge the strongest general 
confidence in the wisdom of our counsels. Yet I 
dare not suppress, at this awful conjuncture, a very 
sincere, though perhaps erroneous opinion, that a peace 
with France, if accomplished by the late negociations, 
would have been fatal to the security of the Country. 

Unfortunately, from the nature of our Constitution, 
Ministers are not always at liberty to follow that path 
of policy which they may deem the best in itself. 
Interior difficulties, arising from Parliamentary opposi- 
tion, or from the popular voice, may drive them out of 
that course which they would otherwise think it pru- 
dent to steer; and in this instance, it seems to have 
been imagined, that the public voice began to declare 
for Peace. 

At the same time, I find it difficult to conjecture 
whence that impression arose, unless from a natural 
squrce of mistake to which great men, whether in or 



75 

out of office, are unavoidably exposed. There is no- 
thing on which it is safer to hazard an opinion in pri- 
vate, than the inclination of the popular voice ; and a 
statesman is not likely to hear any information, hostile 
to opinions, which are understood to be his own. In 
this case it certainly was very generally understood that 
the new administration, especially Mr. Fex, and his 
friends, were decidedly bent upon peace. 

But whatever might be the source of this impression, 
I am confidently of opinion that it was erroneous; 
that the nation at large was never more generally dis- 
posed for the prosecution of war; and that the burst 
of joy with which the rupture of the late negociation 
was received at the Exchange, would have been echoed 
from the remotest parts of the kingdom, if its sound 
and its occasion, could have been heard so far. Not 
that the people love, or do not deplore the war; but 
that they wisely despair of any real or abiding peace ; 
and dread the consequences of any treaty that can be 
made with France at this period. 

That there was not more reason to apprehend oppo- 
sition to a determined war system in parliament, I dare 
not affirm ; and feeling how much party spirit is now 
to be deprecated, I venture to censure the negociation 
the more freely, because if it was wrong to negociate with 
France, it was an error which the present opposition 
does not, and cannot arraign. The leading members 
of that body, some of whom well deserve the esteem of 
their country, had not indeed expressly declared for a 
pacific system; but language was held by them which 
plainly implied an opinion, that peace might not impro*- 



perly be negociated for at that disastrous aera, on what 
they called " honourable terms." 

The true objections to the measure then, as well 
as at the present more awful crisis, apply to the una- 
voidable nature and effec ts of any treaty that could be 
proposed; not to its particular terms; yet we heard of 
" a good peace," and " an honourable peace," as proper 
to be treated for with France. For my part, if the pos- 
sibility of a safe Peace can be shewn, I will heartily ad- 
mit, be its articles what they may, that it is good for my 
country in these evil times; and not dishonourable to 
her, but glorious to those who may make it. But 
while no such peace is to be hoped for, I would not 
treat; because I would not lead the people of England 
, into the dangerous error of supposing, that peace with 
France, in her present attitude, is compatible with their 
safety; nor would I lead the people of Europe, and 
America, to believe that England is of that opinion. 

The great and insuperable objections to a treaty of 
peace with Buonaparte in the existing state of Europe, 
are first, that it will enable him to prepare new means for 
our destruction ; secondly, that it cannot abate his in- 
clination to use them; and thirdly^ that it can bring 
us no pledge or security whatever against his pursuing 
the most hostile and treacherous conduct. 

We have lately heard much of the uti possidetis ; 
but this basis, from the offer of which the enemy rece- 
ded in respect of the shore, he cannot be expected to 
extend to the sea. If he would apply it to the relative 
situations of the British and French navies, allowing us 
to keep the exclusive possession of the ocean, and en- 
gaging neithei to increase his marine, nor send his fleets 



w 

cut of port, nor prepare seamen to man them hereafter, 
the true spirit of the uti possidetis might apply to the 
present new and extraordinary case; in which, as Napo- 
leon himself admits, the dominion of the sea is in our 
possession ; and is an advantage which forms our only 
counterpoise to his tremendous continental power. 
But since this application of the principle cannot be 
hoped for or proposed, the specious basis for which we 
so eagerly contended, would in truth be fallacious and 
unequal. It would leave to France all her present 
means of annoyance; and soon deprive us of that ex- 
treme ascendancy at sea, which is our chief mean of 
defence. It is like the equality of proposing to a man 
that has a shorter sword than his enemy, that each 
shall keep his pistols, provided he will come out of the 
house in which he has taken shelter, or let the door be 
open to both. 

Napoleon, however, thought even this bad bargain 
too good for us, when he found us ready to accept it : 
or rather, as we were disposed to leave him possessed of 
every usurpation in Europe, he postponed the agree- 
ment, till he should have usurped a still larger share 
of the Continent, and thrown down every remaining; 
outwork by which we might hope to be in any degree 
covered, when no longer irresistible on the ocean. I 
doubt not, that when his continental enemies shall 
have been brought to acquiescence in a new manufac- 
tory of kingdoms, out of the ruins of their power, he 
will again offer to us the uti possidetis. 

In yielding to us the sovereignty of new colonies and 
settlements beyond the Atlantic, or in the further ex- 
tremity of Africa, he well knows that he shall give us no 



78 

means of future security against his arms; but on the 
contrary, increase those fatal drains which exhaust our 
defensive energies. What can a man who wishes to 
conquer England, desire better, than to give her new 
colonies to garrison, in the sickly swamps of Guiana; 
and new civil and military establishments to maintain, 
at the Cape of Good Hope? He professes indeed to 
place a great value on colonies ; and perhaps, consider- 
ing the situation of France, might reasonably do so; 
but new distant territory to Gt eat Britain, is like new 
projections from the upper floors of a building which 
already overhangs its base. 

If, however, Buonaparte were short sighted enough 
not to perceive that we should be enfeebled by such 
acquisitions, he knows at least that the free use of the 
sea, is worth to him a hundred such colonial cessions, 
as the uti possidetis would give us. We should in 
effect pay him a large compensation for the spoils of 
his allies in the colonies ; while he would retain the 
enormous spoils of our allies in Europe, without pay- 
ing for them any compensation at all. I cannot think 
therefore that he has receded from this offered basis,, 
except for a short interval, and with a view to finish his 
usurpations on the continent, before he accepts our 
comprehensive sanction of them in a new treaty of 
peace. 

Supposing this basis unsafe for us, what other it may 
be asked, would be less so? I answer, what in the 
existing posture of affairs is diametrically opposite, the 
status quo ante bellwn, for ourselves and our allies. 

But this, it may be exclaimed, it would be prepos- 
terous to expect at present from France. I admit it; 



79 

and therefore it would be preposterous to expect at 
present a peace safe for Great Britain. The impossibi- 
lity consists in this, that France will ?wt relinquish 
her new possessions on the continent ; and that there- 
fore Great Britain cannot safely relinquish her undivided 
possession of the sea. We cannot do so, not only be- 
cause we should, by opening the sea to our enemy, 
enable him soon to become a formidable maritime pow- 
er, but because his usurped Empire on shore, would 
become far more terrible and irresistible than it is, were 
its commercial communications restored, We dare 
not give him back his navigation, and let him keep ail 
his new territory too. 

These principles, in any day but the present, would 
have needed no demonstration. If we can safely make 
peace with France in her present most alarming atti- 
tude, we have been fighting since 1792, and even ia 
all our wars since the treaty of Ryswick, not only with- 
out necessity, but upon the most irrational and ex- 
travagant views that ever governed the policy of a 
nation. 

To the argument : " How can we now hope to redeem 
" the continent by war ?" — I answer, its redemption by 
peace, is at least equally hopeless. Let us therefore, if 
the continent be indeed irrecoverably lost, look well to 
what remains, — to the last hope of Europe, as well as 
our own nearest interest, the safety of the British Islands, 
There was a time perhaps, when it might have been 
more prudent to open the sea to France, leaving her in a 
state of great continental aggrandizement, than to 
risque her pushing her conquests still further, if that 
csuld have been prevented by any pacific conventions 



80 

that we had power to make, for ourselves and our 
allies; but if there was ever a proper season for such 
policy, it plainly exists no longer; and this, not only 
because our enemy has shewn that no confidence can be 
placed in any treaty which opposes his thirst of univer- 
sal empire; but because it may now fairly be doubted, 
whether any further increase of his dominions, would 
**eally add to his power. 

For my own part, however singular the opinion may 
seem, I should have less apprehension of danger from 
the arms of Napoleon, if the remaining territories of 
Prussia, and Austria, and even the immense domains of 
Russia, and Turkey, were added to his conquests, than 
I feel at the present moment. At sea, the acquisition 
of every bottom still friendly to this country, would 
not now enable him to cope with us; and on shore, he 
has power enough already for our destruction, when 
it can be brought into action against us. The mo- 
mentum of the vast machine, on its present scale, 
is more than we can hope finally to resist : but 
every enlargement of its dimensions, and multiplica- 
tion of its intricate movements, increases its tenden- 
cies to interior derangement ; and therefore, without 
adding to our immediate peril, improves our chance of 
escape. Buonaparte has hitherto been so astonishingly 
prudent, or fortunate, that we naturally begin to doubt 
whether there be any thing too difficult for him to ac- 
complish; but his power is already composed of so 
many discordant elements, that their cohesion is truly 
wonderful ; and as he proceeds, he is gaming at double 
or quits.. Even the large armies, which he has to sta- 



SI 

tion in so many conquered countries, will soon be very 
difficult to govern : They, or their generals, will pro- 
bably recollect, that the Roman legions bestowed the 
purple, as well as kept the provinces in subjection ; 
and revolutions in this extraordinary age, move with a 
celerity of which history has no example. 

But if it be still thought that we have cause to dread 
the further extension of French Empire on the Conti- 
nent, it is a danger against which Peace can furnish no 
degree of security. Napoleon will not treat our media- 
tion or remonstrances now, with more deference than 
he did after the treaty of Amiens. 

I conclude, therefore, that in relaxing by a Peace, 
that naval and commercial embargo to which the enemy 
is now subjected by our fleets, and enabling him there- 
by to replenish his treasury, and restore his marine, 
we should incur very formidable new dangers, without 
at all diminishing the old. We should not check, but 
accelerate the growth of his tremendous power on the 
Continent ; while we should give him the opportunity 
of building that bridge for it to the British Islands, 
which is now happily wanting. 

If Peace would not diminish the power of Napoleon 
to prepare means for the conquest of England, still less 
would it remove his present hostility to our indepen- 
dence and freedom. 

In truth, it is impossible, that he should ever cease 
to regard our subjugation as the first and most neces- 
sary object of his policy. His throne cannot be stable, 
while civil liberty remains unsubverted in any part of 
Europe ; and though freedom is every where the ob- 
ject of his hatred and dread, yet it is particularly 

G 



82 

terrible to him here. With such a neighbour as the Bri- 
tish Constitution, he knows that his military despotism 
can never cease to be invidious and odious in France. 

Equally impossible is it, that new subjects of conten- 
tion, should not soon and often arise. Already he 
justly foresees one of them, which he is by no means 
prepared to tolerate, in the freedom of our press; and 
therefore has modestly proposed its abolition by Act of 
Parliament, as essential even to that temporary peace, 
which he is willing, for his own purposes, to accord to 
us. If he did not press that demand as an indispensable 
condition of the treaty lately projected, it only proves 
the more clearly, that he either was insincere in nego- 
ciating for a Peace, or meant to make use of it as a 
mere stratagem the better to insure our destruction. 

But supposing that he really means to live in peace 
with a country whose news-writers shall dare to di- 
vulge and arraign his crimes, it is an intention to which 
he would be incapable of adhering. He is not less 
proud or irascible now, than before he had assumed 
the title of Emperor, or won the battle of Austerlitz; 
and yet during the last peace, he resented with great 
indignation the censures of our press. What then is to 
be done? He disdained in the case of M. Peltier the 
satisfaction of a prosecution at law; nor would he 
consent to distinguish between strictures such as our 
courts might deem libellous, and those remarks upon 
his public conduct, which might be within the strictest 
limits of allowable public discussion. We know his 
system of government for the press, and the policy on 
which it is founded. Nothing, according to his 
maxims, ought to be published, whereby a tyrant 



83 

may be rendered deservedly odious at home, or a 
conqueror be obstructed in his schemes against the in- 
dependency of foreign nations. Even political ru- 
mours in conversation, are with him capital crimes. 
When it was lately reported in Hanover, that a Russian 
army was marching for that country, the French Go- 
vernor publicly announced that such rumours were by 
the law of France, punished with death* 

We know too, by Mr, Palm's case* with what ven- 
geance Napoleon pursues the offences of a foreign press, 
when he has the power to punish. To proclaim in a 
neutral country, the dangers with which Europe is 
menaced by his ambition, is with him an atrocious 
crime; and intitles him to trample on the rights of 
nations, as well as of individuals, in order to avenge it. 
Are we prepared then to prohibit our press from di- 
vulging even such enormities of this man's conduct* as 
it may most behove the people of England to know ? 
If not, what hope of abiding peace with Buonaparte ? 

I will not insist on the danger of quarrels on account 
of his future outrages against other nations, and his 
usurpations of new kingdoms and colonies in time of 
peace; for to all this we must of course be prepared 
to submit. It would be grossly inconsistent to go to 
war again for such causes, if we make peace at the 
present juncture; nor would the people of England be 
easily brought to engage again in a foreign quarrel, 
when persuaded that the most enormous aggrandise- 
ment of France is compatible with their own peace and 
security. Buonaparte, therefore, must be left to act as 
he did after the treaty of Amiens; and to take if he 

G 2 



*4 

pleases the rest of the world, as the price of abstaining 
awhile from war against the British dominions. 

But our commerce, and our navigation, would be- 
come sure subjects of early dispute, unless we were 
willing tamely to submit, to injuries fatal to our trade, 
to our revenue, and maritime power. 

It is impossible, when we consider Napoleon's maxims 
of commercial policy, to doubt that he will avail him- 
self, as soon as the sea is open, of all his enormous 
power and influence to exclude us by means of treaties, 
and of municipal laws, not only from France, but 
from every other country in Europe, to the Govern- 
ment of which he can dictate. With a sincerity un- 
usual to him, he has already pretty plainly intimated 
that such will be his pacific system, by protesting, 
in limine ', when he began to negociate, against every 
stipulation in favour of our commerce. He would 
have no commercial treaties with us whatever. 

And here I must own myself quite at a loss to com- 
prehend the views of those, who regard the interests of 
our commerce and manufactures, as considerations on 
the side of peace. That such is not the opinion of 
our merchants in general, is well known; and yet they 
judge perhaps only from the necessary commercial ef- 
fects of a free peace competition against them, under 
the present great disadvantages of the country, without 
taking into the account the unfair preferences and ex- 
clusions, to be systematically opposed to them in fo- 
reign countries. 

Who that attentively considers the spirit of Napo- 
leon's late decree against our commerce, can be insen- 
sible to the danger of his acting on the same principle 



85 

in time of peace? He might then perhaps find means 
to carry into effect, what he now impotently threatens. 
The necessities of his subjects, and of the subjects of 
his allies and dependents, will secure to us their custom 
during war, in spite of his prohibitions; for it cannot 
be supposed that our Government will omit to employ 
the obvious means of counteracting them. I hope ra- 
ther that we shall embrace the fair opportunity which 
it affords of asserting more firmly our maritime rights, 
and thereby giving new vigour to British commerce. 
But when we shall have no longer the power of opposing 
to regulations on shore, the pressure of our hostilities 
by sea; when the ships of France, Spain, Holland, 
Genoa, and Venice, and all the other maritime Coun- 
tries now hostile to us, shall be able to navigate without 
interruption, on every voyage, and with every species 
of merchandize; the same interdict on our trade, in the 
inoffensive form of municipal laws, may produce the 
desired effect, and gradually exclude us from almost all 
the ports of Europe. 

Commerce, it is true, will force its way 'in spite of 
prohibitions, where the demand and the profits suffici- 
ently excite the enterprise of the merchant; but it is 
difficult to believe that the manufactures and trade of 
this country, under the extreme pressure of our public 
burthens, will long retain inherent energy enough in the 
comparative cheapness and skill with which they are 
conducted, to supplant other maritime nations, in 
their own, or neighbouring markets; and if by a hostile 
system which we cannot retaliate, they shall be further 
encumbered with all the disadvantages and risques of a 
contraband carriage, while our rivals can trade saftly^ 



86 

and with evejy encouragement that commercial laws 
can afford, I see not how we can hope long to main- 
tain the unequal contest. In this view, the compari- 
son between peace and war is plain and simple. Na- 
poleon is fully resolved to deprive us of the commerce 
of the continent; but in war, he has the inclination 
without the power; in peace he will have both. He 
holds the continental gates of the market ; but in war 
we command all the roads that lead to it, and can 
therefore starve him into the admission of our trade: — 
in peace, the roads will be free to him, and he will 
still command the gates. 

Let me not be understood to propose commercial 
advantages as motives of war; but when the question 
is of abandoning a contest, on a firm perseverance 
on which our liberty and national existence may 
depend, from the dread of ruin to our manufactures 
and trade; it is right to consider how these would be 
affected by peace. Let it be shewn therefore what 
reason we have to hope, that Buonaparte would be dis-> 
posed to spare them. He must willingly abstain in this 
respect from lawful means of depressing a rival, or we 
should probably soon have to choose between the ruin 
of our commerce, and the recommencement of war. 

The last, and most decisive objection to Peace, is 
that Napoleon clearly cannot be trusted; and has now 
so completely broken down the balance of Europe, that 
he has no guarantee to offer to us for his observance of 
any treaty that he may make. 

That he is faithless, is sufficiently notorious; and 
what is worse, he feels no restraint frqm a regard to 
character, but is on the contrary, vain of his fraudful 

1 



87 

policy. This trait in the character of that extraordi- 
nary man, has not, in my apprehension, excited all the 
attention that it deserves ; for it is in a high degree 
curious and important. Other conquerors have been 
perfidious; but I can recollect no instance of any other 
sovereign, who was proud and ostentatious of his 
contempt for truth and justice, both in the cabinet 
and in the field. 

To the intelligent reader, instances of this peculiarity 
in Napoleon, may perhaps readily occur. The Egyp- 
tian expedition, a creature of his own, abounded, 
from first to last, with proofs of it. His dispatches, 
under a thin veil of expression, too flimsy even to de- 
ceive the lowest of the vulgar, and used only to make 
his address conspicuous, informed France and Europe gf 
that foul perfidy, with which nations at peace with the 
Republic ; Turks, Mamelukes, and Arabs, were alter- 
nately cajoled and deceived. The sanguinary means 
of conquest, were also coolly narrated ; and Denon, in 
his account of the expedition to Upper Egypt, publish- 
ed at Paris under the auspices of Buonaparte himself, 
needlessly enlarges upon the barbarities committed by 
the French army in the villages of the miserable Cophts, 
as if they added to the honours of his patron. 

He took care also that his impious hypocrisy in that 
country should be perfectly understood in France. 
His open disavowal of Christ, in his proclamations to a 
Mahometan people, and his assumption of the name 
of Ali, to countenance the pretence of his being a con- 
vert to their faith, appeared, if I remember right, in his 
official dispatches, as well as in his Egyptian state 
papers - y and it is probable, that the desire of being ad- 



S8 

mired for his address at home, more than the hope of 
any direct benefit from the cheat among the Mussul- 
mans, was the motive of that vile expedient. 

His late elaborate though contemptuous answer to 
the Prussian manifesto, is evidently an instance of simi- 
lar conduct. The absurd policy into which he had long 
betrayed the unfortunate monarch, is artfully pointed 
out to the notice of every observant reader; and those * 
measures which were the result of a fatal complaisance 
for, and confidence in the Usurper himself, are held up 
as having exposed their credulous and simple author 
to the distrust and hatred of Austria, and thereby 
prepared his fall. 

In publishing Sebastiani's report, he gave, according 
to Mr. Pitt's observation, a greater cause of war than 
even the insidious mission of that agent ; and yet it 
was evidently published, not for the sake of insulting 
the Powers with which he was then at peace, but for 
the sake of exhibiting his state-craft, and contempt for 
the obligation of treaties. 

Other instances, not less striking, might be found in 
his European policy ; and if so strange a singularity of 
character were still doubtful, we might borrow a further 
and stronger illustration of it from a case well known in 
the West Indies ; and which, though little noticed in 
this country, was recorded in the Paris Gazettes, I 
mean not the well-known treachery towards Toussaint, 
but the treatment of Pelage, the chief leader in Guada- 
loupe, and the black army under his command. 

The negroes in that Island, remained perfectly quiet 
and obedient to their masters, through the most trying 
revolutionary times, till Victor Hugues, and his bro^ 



89 

commissioners, arrived with a decree for their "en- 
franchisement, in the summer of 1794; and by their 
help, reconquered the Island from the British army, 
to which it had surrendered. From that time to the 
Peace of Amiens, the new citizens not only defended 
the island for Fiance, when she had no other posses* 
sion left in the Antilles, but enabled her to do infinite 
mbchtef to the neighbouring British colonies; and 
powerfully diverted our arms and treasure from the 
European contest, at the most critical period of the 
war. 

Interior subordination and good conduct, accompa- 
nied these important services; and Buonaparte himself 
on the restitution of peace, publicly praised these black 
patriots, whose freedom was then anew most solemnly 
guaranteed by the state, and by himself, for having 
maintained the Island in a state of great agricultural 
value. He added, by way of apology to the planters, 
that " it would cost humanity too much to attempt 
u there, a new revolution." At the same moment, 
however, he sent a new Governor, La Crosse, with an 
army, to restore slavery and the cartwhip; and that 
officer was proceeding to execute his instructions, when 
the negroes, under Pelage their chief leader, resisted, 
and drove him from the island. 

They acted, nevertheless, with the utmost huma- 
nity and moderation; and sent a very loyal address to 
the Chief Consul, humbly justifying their conduct, 
imputing the strange attempt of La Crosse to a breach 
of his orders, and offering to receive dutifully any other 
Governor whom the Republic might chuse to send. 
J^apoleon took them at their word ; and Richepanse, 



90 

whom Tie sent out with new and most solemn declara- 
tions that liberty should be inviolably maintained, 
was received by Pelage and the chief part of his black 
army, with all the honours due to the representative of 
the republic. A part however of the negro army, 
being less credulous after what they had recently wit- 
nessed, refused to obey his orders ; upon which Pelage 
marched his loyal troops against them, and after 
several bloody conflicts, completely suppressed all 
resistance to the authority of the new governor.-— 
The last body of the disaffected negro soldiery that 
held out, consisting of some hundreds, took shelter in 
a fort, and when they found it no longer tenable 
against their numerous and brave assailants, followed a 
memorable example of ancient resolution in the cause 
of liberty, by setting fire to their magazine. The ex- 
plosion, not only saved every one of these intrepid men 
from the whips of the drivers, but was fatal to many of 
their brave deluded brethren, who were approaching to 
storm the walls. 

Buonaparte, in his Gazette account, paid a very high 
tribute of praise to the astonishing gallantry of Pelage 
and his black battalions, by whom such determined 
enemies had been subdued. But what- was their imme* 
diate reward ? To be treacherously divided, seized at their 
different posts by surprize, sent on board transports, 
and, as was supposed in the neighbouring Islands, drown- 
ed at sea. The only reason for imagining that the rer 
port of their being destroyed in that mode, may not 
have been universally true, is that at the commence* 
ment of the present war, an article appeared in som^ 



91 

French newspapers, importing that Pelage was set at 
liberty from a prison in France; but it was probably 
only designed to inspire a fear into our Government, 
that this brave leader might again be (employed to an- 
noy us in the Antilles : for neither he, nor his exiled 
followers, have since been heard of. 

I do not cite this case for the very needless purpose 
of shewing that Buonaparte is perfidious in the highest 
degree, but to prove that he is proud of that quality ; 
for this unparalleled instance of fraud and ingratitude, 
though notorious in the West Indies, would pro- 
bably never have been fully known in Europe, if he 
bad chosen to conceal it ; and he had actually con- 
cealed the cause of the expulsion of La Crosse, toge- 
ther with the loyal address of Pelage and his country- 
men, for the sake of suppressing the disgraceful result 
of his first attempt on negro liberty in Guadaloupe, 
till he received accounts of the success of his second 
perfidious stratagem. But as soon as he learnt from 
Richepanse, that all the military negroes were destroy- 
ed, and their unarmed cultivators in his power, he fill- 
ed the columns of the Moniteur with their address, 
though then several months old ; and a few days after, 
announced all the events that followed ; relating coolly 
the arrest and deportation of Pelage and his troops, 
without even accusing them of a fault, or suggesting 
any other excuse, for that unexampled perfidy of which 
they were the victims. 

Such is the man, whose good faith must now be our 
only security for his maintaining the duties of peace, 
or observing the conditions of Treaties. Were he, 
while bound by pacific conventions to us, sudden- 



9% 

]y to land an army in Ireland or Great Britain, he 
would rather boast of, than blush for, the stratagem. 
Much less would he be ashamed of insidiously stirring 
up against us new and dangerous wars in India, for 
which he would immediately prepare, when the sea 
should be no longer impervious to his emissaries and 
his troops. 

The difficulties of making peace with enemies of a 
faithless character, have heretofore been commonly ob- 
viated or lessened, by the mediation and guarantee of 
powerful neutral states; or where these have not thought 
fit directly to interfere, a treaty has still been held the 
less insecure, because other nations likely to censure, 
perhaps to assist in avenging, any flagrant act of per- 
fidy, were privy to the compact. But France, having 
left in the civilized world no independent Power but 
England at all capable of annoying her, has no longer 
any thing to fear, nor have we any thing to hope, from 
the interference of other States. 

Is there any reason then to expect that the sense of 
self interest, or the political maxims of Napoleon, will 
lead him to adhere to his pacific engagements ? On 
the contrary, were his revenge and hatred towards us ? 
and even his dread of the example of our civil liberty, 
removed, still he would feel it necessary to crush a 
power which so obstinately opposes the march of his 

ambition. 

It is a common error, of which we find many fatal 
examples in history, to suppose that a mind inflamed 
with the lust of conquest and dominion, has set certain 
bounds to its desires; and that by allowing it the quiet 
possession of present usurpations, it will be sated and 



93 

become quiescent. As well might we expect the flames 
to subside, because the conflagration is already enor- 
mous, while there is fresh fuel within reach of their 
spires. The prodigious ascent of Buonaparte, is alone a 
sure earnest, that he will never rest, while it is possible to 
mount any higher. — A mighty monarch, who inherited 
his throne from his ancestors, may greatly aggrandize 
himself by conquest perhaps, without giving decisive 
proof of an ambition absolutely boundless: but what 
can be capable of satisfying the man, who when sud- 
denly elevated from a private station, to the throne of 
the Bourbons, and possessed of a dominion greater by 
far than the Bourbons ever possessed, could not for a 
moment be content ? It is not enough for him, that 
his own brows are bound with an Imperial diadem.— 
He must set crowns also on the heads of all his near 
relations and connections. Nay his friends and follow* 
ers, must be raised to the rank of Princes, and placed 
on a level with the most illustrious houses of Europe. 
Is it in nature that ambition like this, will ever re- 
spect any limits over which it is possible to vault ? 
Indeed, what human passion was ever diminished by 
excessive indulgence, while the power of its more ex- 
tensive gratification remained ? 

Let it be recollected that the appetite of a con* 
queror is, not to enjoy dominion, but to acquire and 
extend it; or rather, to find in that favourite work, new 
sources of military fame. He values a kingdom after 
it is subdued, no more than the sportsman a fox or hare, 
after it is run down : the pleasure is in the pursuit. — 
Alexander understood this, though his friend Parmenio 
did not, when Darius offered half his dominions to save 



the rest, together with his daughter in marriage. " 1 
would accept the proposal," said the friend, " were I 
Alexander," — " so would I," replied the conqueror, 
" were I Parmenio." 

In a word, when we consider attentively the peculiar 
force of this destructive passion, in the breast of Buona- 
parte, and the abstinence from its gratification which 
must be the price of a durable peace with England, his 
personal feelings, still more than his interest or his policy, 
render his adherence to a pacific system utterly hopeless. 

For these reasons, as well as others, the policy of 
treating with France at the present conjuncture, is by 
no means like that which prevailed at the close of the 
last war. The treaty of Amiens was, I then thought, and 
still think, a wise and laudable measure. Buonaparte 
had not then given unequivocal proof that he was actua- 
ted by views incompatible with a true and lasting peace. 
On the contrary, there was reason to hope that he de- 
sired to build his future fame, and his domestic autho- 
rity on that popular foundation. Besides, he had not 
then abolished the republican government, and estab- 
lished his power upon the basis of an absolute monarchy. 
The popular voice in France therefore was likely to be 
respected, and it was decidedly in favour of peace. 

At the same time it seemed highly probable, that the 
strength of the republic, if not her warlike disposition, 
would decline, when the pressure of foreign hostilities 
should be removed, and her discordant interior ele- 
ments be left to their natural motion. These are 
times when no man need be ashamed of erroneous 
calculations on such subjects; for the extraordinary 
course of events has placed the most heedless rashness, 



93 

and most cautious circumspection, in political judg- 
ment, nearly on a level. Now however, the character 
and system of Buonaparte are become matters not of 
speculation but experience, while his power seems to 
be irreversibly established: consequently the hopes 
which justified the treaty of Amiens, could not now 
be rationally admitted, even if the state of Europe 
were equally favourable to peace. 

But the most important distinction between that 
case and the present, is to be found in the much 
altered, and now deplorable state of the Continent. — 
The great military powers, our natural allies, were then 
left in a condition to keep in check the ambition of 
France, by a timely union; and in this we had some 
apparent security for her future moderation, which is 
now entirely lost. 

In this respect, the case is most decisively altered 
for the worse, even since the late negotiation at Paris. 
Neither the example therefore of the administration 
which treated at Amiens, nor that of the present 
cabinet and Mr. Fox, would afford any sanction for a 
new experiment upon the good faith and moderation of 
France, after the battle of Auerstadt, and the total 
ruin of Prussia. 

Surely the ungrateful treatment, of that power, will 
convince us of the extreme folly of hoping to conciliate 
Napoleon by a timid pacific system. If not, we shall 
give a more striking instance than has yet been exhibit- 
ed of that infatuation which prepares for him his 
victims; since England has at present a security in 
war, that neither Prussia nor Austria possessed. 

Such are my reasons for thinking that a peace with 



96 

Buonaparte, would not lessen, but aggravate our dan* 
gers. — Those who maintain the contrary, are prudently 
sparing of explanations. They hold it enough to spread 
before our eyes the dangers and inconveniences of was, 
without shewing how they are to be diminished by 
peace : or what possible hope we have, that any peace 
we can make will be lasting. 

In a view to finances indeed, they say, how are 
we long to carry on the war? — I admit the difficulty, 
but retort the question ; how are we to carry on the 
peace ? 

Dares any Minister promise us a peace which will 
so far deliver us from the necessity of defensive pre- 
cautions, as greatly to diminish our expences ? — But 
to justify a negociation in this view, its advocaies 
should go much farther, and shew, that contrary to the 
calculations of our merchants, peace will make no shrink 
in our commercial revenue ; otherwise the diminution of 
import and export duties, may be more than equal to 
any possible saving of expenditure. Some Statesmen- 
are said to assert, that we may by persevering in the 
system of finance, established by Mr. Pitt, soon find 
resources for prosecuting the war without any addi- 
tional taxes ; but nobody I believe will maintain, that a 
peace destructive of our commerce would be consistent 
with any such hope. 

If our finances were likely to be improved by peace, 
it would be a new and decisive reason with Buonaparte 
for the speedy renewal of war. But without taking 
any such motive into the account, it must be, and is 
admitted, even by the most sanguine advocates for a 
Peace, that its duration would be in the highest degree 



97 

precarious. Wc must therefore set against the very slen- 
der chance of financial savings by a pacific system, the 
probable and vast expence of renewing, at an early pe- 
riod, our war establishments, after they may have been 
broken up or reduced. 

When these considerations are fairly weighed, it will 
appear very doubtful whether a steady prosecution of 
the war be not the most economical, as well as the 
safest course, we can at present pursue. That would 
at least, I dare affirm, be the case, supposing the war to 
be conducted upon right principles, and such as the 
duty of self-preservation, at this awful crisis, demands. 
If we are still to persevere in military expeditions to 
distant countries, those sure sources of enormous pecu- 
lation and waste, the war indeed may be costly enough ; 
but if we wisely keep at home the army which may be 
essential to our domestic safety, act only on the 
defensive on shore, and assert firmly our belligerent 
rights on the ocean, we shall find it more frugal by far 
to continue at open war, than to suspend hostilities 
again for a year or two, by an anxious and dangerous 
peace. Such a use of our maritime power, as the state 
of Europe, and of the world, would abundantly justify, 
and as the late conduct of the enemy invites, would give 
us means of maintaining the contest for fifty years if 
necessary, without an additional tax, except such as 
France, her allies, and the States under her influence, 
would pay. 

The only additional argument for sheathing the 
sword that is commonly urged, appears to me perfect- 
ly frivolous, <c If we continue the war, it is said, from a 
dread of making peace with France in her present state 

H 



98 

of aggrandisement, we may continue it forever ; for we 
cannot deprive her of her conquests. " Permanent war, 
no doubt is a dreadful idea ; but let it be contrasted, as 
to meet fairly the present arguments for war, it ought, 
with permanent servitude to France, and perhaps its hor- 
rors will vanish. 

The objection however supposes, that because we 
cannot dislodge the enemy from his present possessions 
they must of course be perpetual ; and that all the other 
dangers which forbid a pacific system at the present 
alarming juncture, are also interminable. But if the ter- 
ritorial aggrandisement of France, and what is not less 
dangerous, the talents, strength, and ambition of her 
present government, are to last for ever, so much the less 
can we afford to divide with her the possession of the 
sea. If in that case, the naval power of the enemy is to 
vegetate long and freely upon the enormous fields of 
dominion now ploughed up for its culture, farewell to 
every hope of our permanent safety : but we may now 
cut off from it by war, that maritime carriage and 
trade, which are essential to its nutrition and growth. 

For my part, I regard neither Buonaparte, nor his 
conquests, nor his ambitious system, as immortal; 
though all may live long enough for the ruin of 
England, if we give him a peace at this juncture. 

Judging from historical examples, and natural pro- 
bability, which notwithstanding the strange occurrences 
of the age, we must still do, if we would anticipate 
future events, I cannot believe that the new erected 
empire of France will long survive the builder. It has 
been put together too hastily, and with too many un- 
seasoned materials, to be durable. It may even fall 



99 

by the rupture of that military scaffolding by which 
it was raised. The deposed Sovereigns may probably 
not be restored, nor the conquered nations delivered 
from a foreign master ; but it seems probable that the 
Captains of this second Alexander, will at his decease at 
least, if not during his life, carve out for themselves their 
respective kingdoms, without much respect for the 
claims of the Corsican family. He has already shewn 
them the way to take up crowns with the sword, and 
has whetted their appetite for sovereign power, by the 
elevation of their comrades. France, therefore, may 
like Macedon, be soon glad to maintain her ancient 
borders against those who conquered in her name -, and~ 
new political combinations, may produce a new balance 
of powers in Europe. The conquerer himself even, may 
possibly meet the fate of his brother Emperors, Cassar 
and Dessalinesj and if we must at last fall, it will be 
something at least, to have escaped by a protracted 
war, the yoke of Buonaparte. 

We should dread subjection to this man, beyond all 
other foreign masters ; not only because he personally 
hates us, and all that is most noble among us -, but 
because,' no subverter of thrones, of whom history in- 
forms us, has been more truly odious. 

And here lerme deprecate with just alarm, let me re- 
probate with honest indignation, the groveling sentiments 
that would ascribe to this phenomenon and reproach 
of our age, the character of a hero, or the appellation of 
Great. Should we unhappily fall under his yoke, we shall 
be compelled like Frenchmen to praise him; but let 
us not prematurely teach our children to admire, or 
even to view him without abhorrence. It is of some 

H 2 



100 

importance to the cause of morals, and more to the 
temporal destiny of mankind, that the standard of 
heroism should not be reduced to the low level of 
Buonaparte. 

There has always been in the world a fatal propensity to 
admire those pests of our species, called conquerors, and 
to pay them in fame the wages for which they labour in the 
fields of blood. But this error has in general one excuse. 
We commonly observe in this mischievous race, as in the 
Hon, a savage dignity at least, if not a generosity of 
character. Even in their crimes there is a sublimity, 
which inspires terror indeed, and perhaps indignation, 
but not disgust or contempt. How different the man, 
who after the battle of Auerstadt, could send forth those 
pitiful bulletins against an unhappy woman, and a 
Queen, which have appeared in the French Gazettes ; 
who has repeatedly indulged the same paltry spite 
against the unfortunate Queen of Naples, and the brave 
Englishman that foiled him in Syria ; who refused to 
allow the body of the gallant old Duke of Brunswick 
to be laid in the tomb of his ancestors ; and who in the 
case of Trafalgar, and many other instances, has not 
scrupled to disgrace himself in the ^eyes of all Europe, 
by the grossest forgeries and falsehoods. 

I fear that the detestation due to this last mean part 
of Buonaparte's character, begins to wear out, from the 
frequency of its exhibition. Let us recollect then if 
we can, any other man in ancient or modern story 
known by the appellation of Great, who ever stooped 
to the pitiful tricks of systematic falsehood, in his 
public relations of facts. To the dignity of ancient 
heroism the vice was utterly unknown j and though 



101 

in our modern wars with the Kings of France, accounts 
of battles are said to have been unfair, at least on the 
side of our enemies, the misrepresentations have been 
such as might, in good measure, be ascribed to the dc- 
ceptious reports of subordinate commanders, or to the 
sincere partiality of self-lore. The misrepresentations 
of the Brussels Gazettes became in the last reign pro- 
verbial ; yet the French King was probably more the 
dupe of flattery, than the author of wilful falsehood* 
Widely different however, were the glosses and the 
strongest distortions of facts used in those days, from the 
shameless effrontery which could represent our glorious 
victory at Trafalgar as a battle in which we had lost fifteen 
or sixteen ships of the line, and forge letters from 
Gibraltar to confirm the vile imposture. 

There is even a generical difference between this 
mean habit of Napoleon, and the falsehoods ever before 
used by any Monarch who has stooped to this gro- 
velling vice. Deceits have been practised privately in 
the cabinet; but they have been regarded, at least 
by those misjudging minds which used them, as the 
lawful circumvention of an enemy or a rival ; and such 
violations of truth, have commonly been perpetrated 
in the hope of escaping detection. But the mendacious 
Gazettes of Buonaparte, differ from such secret and 
particular crimes, as open prostitution, differs from a 
private intrigue. He publishes without a blush, 
relations the gross falsehood of which he knows to be 
notorious at the moment to every man in Europe, 
except those who arc prevented from reading any 
newspapers but his own; and which must soon lose 
their credit even with his own deluded subjects. 



102 

For a tempore/ domestic purpose, this mighty Mo- 
narch is content to incur an infamy from which every 
gentleman shrinks with abhorrence, and the proper 
epithet for which is too low to sully these sheets. 

If any man can regard a contemptible trait of charac- 
ter like this, as compatible with true greatness, let him 
look to another criterion. There is a comity in heroism, 
and a sympathy between great minds, which have 
secured to illustrious characters when fallen, respect 
and kindness from their conquerors. Antiquity 
abounds with examples of such magnanimity, which 
we admire, though we feel, at the same time, that they 
could hardly be of difficult practice, But the pseudo- 
heroism of Buonaparte has no such amiable feature. 

I will not stop to illustrate his odious want of sensi- 
bility in such cases, by instances to which Europe has 
been sufficiently awake ; but will refer to one that ap- 
pears to me the most remarkable and shameful. 

He had once an illustrious opponent, who attracted 
much attention in the present day, and will probably 
be still more admired in the calm view of future ages ; 
I mean that extraordinary African Toussaint. Napo- 
leon himself pronounced his eulogy in these terms. 
<c Called by his talents to the chief command in St. 
(i Domingo, he preserved the Island to France during 
(c a long and arduous foreign war, in which she could 
<c do nothing t© support him. He destroyed civil 
C( war, put an end to the persecutions of ferocious men y 
£C and restored to honour the religion ar/i worship of 
*.* Gpdj from whom all things come."* The praise 

* Speech of July or August, 1§02, in the London Newspapers qf 
August gth. 



103 

when bestowed, was by no means excessive, or even 
adequate; and yet Toussaint's subsequent conduct, 
added greatly to his former glory. Incorruptible, dis- 
interested, intrepid, and humane, he performed, in his 
last contest for freedom, actions that would bear com- 
parison with the most brilliant traits of ancient heroism 
and virtue; and they were crowned by a triumph over 
the conquerors of Europe. We know too well the 
rest. Circumvented by the foulest fraud, he fell into 
the power of his unprincipled enemy. 

Here, however it might have been supposed, hostility 
would have ended, and generosity begun to act. Deliver- 
ed from the opposition of his arms, the usurper might. 
have been expected to honour this extraordinary cha- 
racter, and take pride in rewarding his merit. The 
interesting singularity of his fortunes and extraction, 
as well as his worth, would have led a mind of any 
liberality to treat him with tenderness and respect. 
Though depressed in early life below the level of man- 
hood, he had risen to the rank of heroes. Before he 
mounted into the region of illustrious deeds, he had to 
cleanse his wings from the filth of a brutalizing bond- 
age : Yet he became a victorious general, a wise le- 
gislator, an enlightened statesman, and the chief of a 
people, formed by his own genius, from slaves and 
barbarians, into citizens and soldiers. He was never 
conquered , and what is far higher praise, never faith- 
less, cruel, or unjust, In all the relations of private 
life, he was truly amiable ; and to crown all, a pious 
Christian. 

Who, that ever pretended to the appellation of Great, 
except the vile Buonaparte, could have torn such a, cap- 



104 

tive from his beloved family, and thrown him into a 
dungeon to perish ! ! A Cassar or Alexander, would have 
honoured, a Timur or an Attila, would have spared, 
him 5 but it was his hard lot to fall into die hands of an 
enemy, who adds to the ferocity of a savage, the apathy 
of a sceptic, and the baseness of a sham rencgado. 

When we add to this want of every generous and 
elevated sentiment, the numberless positive crimes 
against humanity, justice, and honour, by which Na- 
poleon is disgraced, it seems astonishing, and is truly 
opprobrious to the moral taste of the age, that he 
should still find any admirers. 

There may, I admit, be a dignity even in the most 
vicious characters. When Satan is represented rising 
from the lake of fire, haranguing the fallen Angels, or 
steering his adventurous course through Chaos, to wage 
new wars against the Almighty, in a new created world, 
we conceive of him with fear and hatred indeed, but 
there is a majesty in his crimes, which screens him 
from contempt. Not so, when he meanly lies to the 
archangel -, and still less, when, in the shape of a loath- 
some reptile, he sits at the car of our first mother, 
practising detestable frauds and falsehoods upon her 
fancy, for the ruin of her innocence and peace. Mis 
dignity now vanishes, and admiration is lost in abhor- 
rence. Yet the fiend still sins in the prosecution of a 
public purpose : he is serving the State of Hell, and 
not merely the individual Satan. The heroism of 
Buonaparte, on the contrary, is sunk in selfishness, as 
well as in despicable crimes. His private personal 
feelings, arc ever predominant : it is the opposition to, 
or the libel against Napoleon, that provokes his bit' 



105 

terest vengeance — it is for little self, and its connections, 
that he murders, deceives, insults, oppresses, and be- 
trays. 

The extreme elevation to which talents and success 
have raised him, makes these mean and loathsome qua- 
lities only the more opprobrious and disgusting. How 
abject must be the constitution of that mind, which 
such fortunes could not ennoble ! Antichristian philo- 
sophy, behold thy work ! Sec here the difference between 
thy godless heroism, and the dignity, I will not say of 
Christian, but even of Pagan greatness. The majesty 
of the Temple is ruined, because there is no sense of a 
present Divinity to guard it from pollution. It is as if 
the sublime dome of St. Pauls were lined, and its lofty 
pillars covered, with the rags of Chick-lane, and the 
offals of Newgate -market. 

If the irreligious character of the age has generated 
this spurious greatness, let us distinguish and revere 
the appropriate justice of Heaven. We would have 
morals without religion ; and God has sent us ambition 
without dignity in return. We admire talents more than 
morals; and he has chastised us by means of a mind born 
to illustrate the pestilent effects of their disunion. We 
have rebelled against him, by opposing publicly to his 
laws the idolatrous worship of expediency ; and he has 
put the scourge into a hand which dishonours, while 
it chastises, our proud and boastful age. It is like the 
punishment of a noble traitor, whose bodily indignities 
and pains are aggravated, by the sentence that he shall 
receive them from the vile hands of a common execu- 
tioner. 

Should this man however become our Master, his vices 



106 

will no longer be objects of censure, but rather themes 
for applause, and patterns for imitation. The moral taste 
of the Country, and of Europe, will be corrupted by the 
example of their Mighty Lord, as well as by the de- 
basing effects of his oppression, and the licentious 
manners of his soldiers. I repeat, therefore, that 
should perseverance in war fail to produce our final 
deliverance from the Power of France, it will be still an 
effect of great value if it secures us from that of Buona- 
parte. 

Sect. 3. The military force of the Country ought to 
be greatly increased. 

Having thus cursorily shewn that a treaty of peace 
would be a source of new dangers, rather than of secu- 
rity to the Country, against the power of France, I pro- 
ceed to point out the means by which such security 
may be effectually attained. 

They are, in general, military vigour, pati- 
ence, unanimity, and reformation; means the 
first only of which I propose, at present, distinctly to 
consider. 

A much greater proportion of military vigoi(r y than 
now exists, must be infused into our defensive prepa- 
rations; or the nation, notwithstanding its spirit and 
resources, will very probably be lost. 

I have already offered some observations, tending to 
shew, that the conquest, as well as the invasion of our 
Country, is by no means an impossible event; though 
we may, like the unhappy and infatuated Prussians, 
proudly believe the reverse. We are at present in 
peculiar danger of a fatal self deception on this point ; 
because the enemy, occupied with the conquest of 



107 

other nations, or engaged in treacherous negotiations 
for peace, has long discontinued his threats of an im- 
mediate invasion. The danger had before been les- 
sened in our eyes by familiarity, and is now still more 
diminished by imaginary distance. We may fondly 
suppose, perhaps, that Buonaparte seriously expects to 
vanquish us by a commercial war; or that, having 
easier conquests in view, he has ceased to be intent upon 
the speedy subjugation of England. 

It is true that he has for the moment other work on 
hand ; and it is possible that he may not again directly 
employ himself in that of our destruction by arms, till 
he has finished the defeat of his continental enemies, 
and found that we are not to be ensnared into a ruinous 
peace. Hence we have a happy, and I trust a provi- 
dential opportunity, of better preparing for our defence. 

But that this season of apparent security will last 
long, cannot be supposed by those who reflect on the 
present situation of affairs, unless they expect that 
Russia will still be able to turn the tide of war, and 
find long employment for all the armies of France. 
May such be the event; but the contrary is much 
rather to be feared. While I write, it is not impro- 
bable that a new treaty of peace for the continent, has 
been extorted by the threat of restoring the throne of 
Poland; and that French columns have begun their 
march from the Vistula, which may soon be on the 
coast of the Channel. Besides, the immense armies 
now advancing towards the seat of war, occupy already 
all the intermediate space ; and as soon as the com- 
mand to halt is given in the front, the rear divisions 



108 

will be ready to throw themselves into the now vacant 
camp at Boulogne. 

Those innumerable hosts will then have no object 
worthy of their arms, but the conquest of Great Britain. 
We shall employ the undivided attention of an enemy, 
who adds to the insatiable ambition, the military 
talents, and the fortune of an Alexander, the multitude 
nous forces of a Xerxes. If half a million of French 
soldiers, elated with victory, were not sufficient for our 
destruction, he could reinforce them with near as many 
more of the vassals whom he calls Allies j while France 
herself is ready at his call, to supply him every year 
with eighty thousand new conscripts, in the prime of 
youthful manhood 

His means of wafting armies to our shores, are indeed 
at present limited and precarious. If they were not, 
our situation would be desperate indeed. But those 
means have increased, and are rapidly increasing, and 
wc may not be able to find, by rencounters with his 
fleets on the ocean, opportunities of checking their 
growth. When we look at the geographical range of 
the territories now at the devotion of Fraace, and the ma- 
ritime resources which they furnish, it would be irrational 
to hope that the hostile navies will remain in their pre- 
sent state of depression ; though we may, by perseve- 
rance in the war, maintain a decisive superiority over 
them, such as to prevent their openly contesting with 
os the dominion of the sea. The mind of Buona- 
parte will toon direct all its energies towards their 
restitution. Ships and seamen will be the only ac- 
ceptable tribute which a fawning world can bring to 
him. He will invite, or exact them, from every pro- 



109 

vince, from every conquered country, from every 
Ally, and even perhaps from countries which he yet 
allows to be nominally neutral. In short, ** all the re- 
iC sources of his Empire" (to quote his own words) will 
be again <c employed in constructing fleets, forming his 
<c marine, and improving his ports."* 

Though his threats of invasion have been suspended, 
not so his naval preparations. He has not discon- 
tinued the building of that great number of ships of 
the line, the keels of which were long since laid at 
Antwerp, at Brest, and in various other ports of his 
dominions ; and the dock yards of Venice, are now 
fully employed, as well as those of Spain and Holland, 
in preparing for him a regular marine. Mean time, 
the Boulogne flotilla has been carefully maintained 
upon that extensive scale, and in that fitness for 
immediate service, to which he had raised it before his 
march for the Rhine. It is, if public and general 
report may be credited, capable of transporting by a 
single embarkation, ] 5 0,000 men, to our shores. Nor 
is that flotilla to be despised, as an instrument of 
invasion, when in the hands of a man prodigal of the 
lives of his troops, and inexorably bent on the accom- 
plishment of his purpose : more especially now, when 
he has gained renown enough, and strength enough, 
both at home and abroad, to be in no danger, from 
the discontent that might be excited by the loss of an 
army. 

We had some security perhaps till now, from the 
dilemma in which Napoleon was placed, by the necessity, 

* M. Backer's Address to the Diet of Ratisbon, Sept. 180*. 



110 

of cither risquing his own person in the passage, or 
resigning to another commander the glory of the expe- 
dition, in the event of its success. But now he can 
afford to spare, to Murat, to Masscna, Davoust, or 
some other distinguished General, the renown of con- 
quering Great Britain ; nor feel any apprehension that 
such a delegate will use the large force to be committed 
to him, either at Boulogne, or on this side the channel, 
so as to triumph with safety, and avoid the fate of Mo- 
reau. The Usurper will therefore most probably not 
expose himself to the inconvenience of leading the army 
of England, nor rashly re-engage himself to do so ; but 
will yield to the prayers of his amioiisly affectionate 
subjects, and devolve on some favourite Chief that ha*- 
zardous command. 

But the Boulogne flotilla will not be relied upon, as 
the only mean of invasion. In other ports of the 
channel, in the German ocean, the Atlantic, the 
Mediterranean, and the Adriatic, regular and powerful 
armaments will be prepared, so as to distract our at- 
tention, and divide our naval force ; nor would it be 
possible for us to blockade them all, through every sea- 
son, and with fleets and squadrons sufficiently strong, if 
our navy were three times as large and potent as it actually 
is. It would be preposterous therefore to suppose, that 
from no part of his immense maritime regions, will the 
enemy be able to send expeditions to sea ; and not less 
so, to rely that his fleets and transports will all be 
met with by British squadrons, before they can land 
troops on our shores. — Even the vigilance and energy 
of Nelson, could not prevent the powerful invasion of 
Egypt; and if prior to 1805, any man believed that 



Ill 

it is impossible for the hostile fleets to steal from their 
harbours, to perform voyages, and to land forces in 
distant parts, without being arrested by British fleets in 
their way, he must now be quite cured of that mistake. 
We have learnt, by reiterated experience within the last 
two years, that all this may be done, without the disco- 
very even of the point of destination, till it is too late to 
frustrate the plan. 

It would not be quite so easy, I admit, to collect and 
send to sea with equal secrecy, a fleet large enough to 
waft over an army adequate to the invasion of England ; 
but supposing such fleets to be collected at more ports 
than one, even this might possibly be effected. 
It must not, however, be concluded that the enemy 
will certainly be driven to the necessity 'of embarking 
by stealth. — A much more likely, and feasible expedient 
would be, the bringing together, by combined and 
well concerted movements, a large part of -4iis naval 
force, at the destined point of embarkation, and then 
sailing openly, for our coast, under the protection of 
a fleet such as we could not immediately collect ships 
enough to intercept and defeat. 

It has been computed by sea officers of reputation 
and judgment, that 16 0,000 men, might be em- 
barked at Boulogne in a single day ; for the vessels 
now collected there, are so constructed as to take the 
ground without damage \ and when anchored at high 
water mark, on a long sandy beach which is im- 
pregnably fortified for their protection, they are left 
dry for hours by the ebb tide ; so that the troops 
may march on board by means of planks, as quickly 
almost as they could file off into their barracks; and 



112 

at the return of high water, be ready to put to sea. If* 
so, the command of the channel for eight and fort/ 
hours, might suffice for the most formidable invasion. 

A plan of this kind is supposed to have been formed, 
in the summer of 1 805. The combined fleets, after 
leading a good part of ours to the West Indies, were 
suddenly to have returned, to have raised the block- 
ades of Cadiz, Brest, and Rochfort, and being rein- 
forced by all the ships in those ports, to have proceeded 
to Boulogne, where perhaps the fleet from the Texel 
would have been brought to their aid. They were 
then to have convoyed the flotilla, with as large 
an army as Buonaparte thought proper to embark ; and 
England might pessibly have been lost before her scat- 
tered fleets could be collected in sufficient numbers to 
oppose them. This plan, it is true, was frustrated 
by the energy of Nelson, and the prudence of our Ad- 
miralty ; and above all,by the mercy of Providence, which 
combined with those means, very propitious coincident 
events. But similar schemes may be formed hereafter ; 
•hey will become more feasible in proportion to the 
increase of the enemy's force ; and their chances of 
success may be multiplied, by the collection of an 
adequate number of transports at different ports, far 
remote from each other. They would also be greatly 
facilitated, by the possession of Venice, and of those 
other new maritime stations, acquired by Buonaparte, 
during the two last campaigns ; for these give him not 
only new ships,, but the means of diverting the navy 
of England to a much wider extent than before, in ne- 
cessary foreign service. — Unhappily, our own distant 
conquests, of which at this conjuncture, we arc unac- 



113 

toimtably fond, by no means lessen, but on the contra- 
ry, increase this advantage. 

It would be easy to enlarge on this subject, and to 
demonstrate clearly the facility of open invasion,- by the 
sudden concentration of an inferior, during the disper- 
sion of a superior navy. But having many new topics 
yet to touch upon, I will rely upon what has already 
been offered; or rather on the plain nature of the case, 
in proof that we may probably be invaded by a very 
powerful army, notwithstanding our maritime power. 

On what human foundation then can we repose a 
tranquil confidence in the present state of the Country? 
We have no inexpugnable fortresses, like Austria and 
Prussia -, no Alpine mountains, like Switzerland; no 
dykes, and means of inundation, like Holland, no 
sandy deserts, like Egypt. All those impediments 
have been surmounted by our formidable enemy ; but 
he would find none such to oppose his progress in 
England, The torrent must be stemmed, if at all, by 
the forces we can bring into the field. 

What then is this last retrenchment of the inesti- 
mable liberties of England ? What is this ulterior de- 
fence, against the most deplorable revolution that con- 
quest ever made; against miseries more dreadful, those 
of the devoted Jews excepted, than any people ever 
endured ? 

We have a regular army, which I will suppose to be 
in point of quality throughout, such as specimens of it 
have gloriously proved to be upon trial, both in Italy 
and Egypt. But it is widely dispersed, by a policy 
which at this arduous conjuncture I am quite at a 
loss to comprehend, upon foreign and distant services, 

I 



114 

Not less than five different British arnfifes are said to 
be at this moment employed in, or destined to, five 
different regions of the globe : and I am really afraid to 
state the small amount to which some credible 
reports now reduce the regular infantry actually 
within the realm. 

But it is not necessary to my argument to ascer- 
tain such alarming facts : for were our whole army 
within the island, it would still be very unequal, in 
point of numbers, to our defence, supposing an invasion 
to take place, on a scale suitable to the magnitude of 
the object, and to the ordinary maxims of our enemy. 
Could our regular troops be collected at once from 
every part of the island, they might find themselves 
greatly outnumbered. But we should, through the 
great quickness of the enemy's motions, be obliged 
to fight him previous to any general union of our forces, 
or give him possession of the Capital. 

A country so exposed by the extent of its assailable 
coast, and by its defenceless interior situation as Eng- 
land, would perhaps hardly be safe from conquest, 
much less from ruin, when invaded, if it contained in 
its whole extent, three soldiers for every enemy that 
should land on its shores ; whereas France, if she in- 
vade us at all, will probably send a force exceeding 
that of our regulars and militia united. I suppose, k 
is true, in this estimate, an equality of military charac- 
ter; but I calculate also on that new system of tactics 
which is so formidable in offensive war, in which our 
enemies so fatally excel, and for which England presents 
to them a most favourable field. 

That daring confidence which never measure* 



115 

difficulties in advancing, and which rcekons too surely oa 
victory, to make any provision for retreat, has been 
known ever since the days of Agathccles, to be most 
propitious to invaders -, and it has probably been partly 
owing to a more cautious character of war in modern 
ages, that the subversion of thrones by conquest has 
been a very rare event in Europe, till the present 
disastrous times- But to this audacious spirit our 
enemies have added an astonishing celerity of move- 
ments, which is perhaps still more peculiarly characteris- 
tic of their military system, and a greater cause of their 
success. The invaded country has no time to collect its 
proper domestic resources, much less to receive succour 
from its allies ; it must submit therefore to the ravages 
of a conqueror, or with such a force as it can bring in a 
moment into the field, stake its fate upon the issue 
of a battle. If a defeat be the event, the victors ad- 
vance with a rapidity that destroys every ulterior hope. 
It is the speed, not of an army, but a post. They 
bring the first news of their own victory to the dis- 
mayed capital, and the flying divisions of the routed 
army, instead of meeting friendly battalions advancing 
to their support, find enemies in their front, as well as 
in their rear. Their utmost speed is arrested by their 
impetuous pursuers, and the passes by which they hoped 
to escape, are seized by hostile corps, who arrive at the 
defiles before them. It is then too late to call out an irre- 
gular defensive force ; or even to collect the regular troops 
from distant positions, and the garrisons of interior towns. 
The invaders have seized upon the central points of 
union, have occupied every pass, and cut off every source 
©f communication or concert, between the different dis- 

12 



116 

.trlcts. The vital organs of the state are in thek 
hands, and they can controul all its functions. The 
disconnected efforts of patriotism and courage that 
may still be made in different places, are like the con- 
vulsive motions of members just severed from the 
body, a mere semblance of life, momentary and 
useless. 

When I reflect upon the terrible effects of this 
impetuous warfare, by which Europe has been re- 
peatedly dismembered j when I behold the last ex- 
ample of its force, in the yet rolling fragments of a 
mighty monarchy, which it has recently burst asunder ; 
I am amazed and confounded, at the strange presump- 
tion of those who rely on ©ur present means of inte- 
rior defence, while they admit the probability of 
invasion. 

It has been said I know, that though London were 
lost, the Country would still be safe. Were our proper 
defensive preparations fully made, it would be right to 
cherish that opinion. But it cannot be supposed that 
the metropolis would be given up without a battle ; 
and should we lose a battle first, and London after- 
wards, our final security must depend upon exertions 
equally difficult and precarious. I am at a loss 
to comprehend the practical views upon which an> 
opposite opinion can be founded. 

That the loss of the metropolis, would immediately 
follow the loss of a battle, unless we had a second army 
at hand to retrieve the miscarriage of the first, is evi- 
dent. What then would be our military reserve, 
supposing a regular army large enough to make a> 
stand against the invaders, should be defeated I 



117 

* c Our volunteers, a hundred tongues will be ready to- 
reply, are that grand ulterior resource - y nay, many of 
them would be in the advanced guard of their Country. 7 ' 

The volunteers, I most cordially admit, will do all 
that their numbers, their degree of discipline, and 
their physical powers, animated by an ardent love of 
their country, and a high sense of honour, will enable 
them to perform. But of our volunteers, how small 
a part are really effective, in the proper sense of that 
term ; and how many are from age, bodily constitution, 
and fixed habits of life, utterly unfit for the duties of the 
field. 

Far indeed is it from my intention, to detract from the 
merits of these corps, or to deny their high utility and 
importance. I would most anxiously maintain, were it 
necessary, that they are essential means for the perma- 
nent safety of the country -, and, without believing that 
any member of the present cabinet ever entertained, 
or meant to express, a contemptuous estimate of their 
value, I lament that such an idea has unfortunately gone 
abroad. 

But it is one thing to applaud an institution in the 
abstract, and another to say that it has attained to 
practical perfection ; or that it is equal to the import- 
ant purposes for which it was designed. They 
who regard the volunteer corps, as radically unrU 
for the defence of their country, are, I am per- 
suaded, gready mistaken : but, on the other hand, 
they who suppose this defensive force to be, in its pre- 
sent state, sufficient to insure our safety, are in a far 
more dangerous error. 

Various objections have been made to these esta- 



118 

blishmcnts on the score of discipline, which no candid 
friend to thern will afErrn to be wholly unfounded. A 
still more serious objection, however, is that both their 
discipline and their effective force, is very generally 
and rapidly declining. But what has always appeared 
to me the chief defect in these corps, and the natural 
source of their decay, is a vice in their original con- 
stitution ; I mean the indiscriminate mixture of men of 
widely different ages, and bodily habits* of which they 
are composed. 

Of all qualities in a soldier, his physical powers arc 
of the greatest importance ; but more especially, when 
his services are likely to be of a severe and laborious 
kind 5 and still more, when he is suddenly to be 
called from the habits of civil life, into the field, 
I would by no means undervalue the effects of pa- 
triotic and military ardour, with which our volunteers, 
if opposed to an invading enemy, would, I doubt not, 
be generally inspired. But though the body in such 
cases may be powerfully sustained by the mind, there 
are limits to the possible effect of such an influence ; 
and the qualities of the inferior part of our natures 
will unavoidably determine, in a great degree, our 
powers of military exertion. It is not in the love of 
country, long to sustain under the sense of cold, hunger, 
and fatigue, a man of tender, habits, who has passed 
the prime of his life without any acquaintance with such 
hardships. 

That our volunteers must unavoidably be in such 
respects inferior to regular troops, is evident. They 
are not inured, by long and constant practice, to the 
duties of a military life : they are, for the most part, 



119 

men unaccustomed even to those laborious branches 
of civil industry, which are the best nurseries for the 
army; and a great majority of them, are inhabitants of 
cities and large towns ; men of domestic and sedentary 
habits, to whom, even exposure to the inclemency of the 
weather, is a novelty, and a hardship. 

But though some of these disadvantages are inhe- 
rent in the very nature of the institution in question, 
they certainly now exist in a much greater degree than 
was necessary. We have more townsmen, and fewer vil- 
lagers, among our volunteers, than we might and 
should have had, but for causes to be presently noticed. 
We have also more men of the middle and upper ranks 
of society, in proportion to the hardy poor, than 
would have been inrolled, if those accidental causes had 
not existed. 

The most unfortunate defect of all, however, and 
which greatly aggravates the effects of all the rest, is 
one which might the most easily have been prevented, 
and which still admits of a remedy. I mean the num- 
ber of volunteers to be found in every corps, who have 
passed the meridian of life, or at least the age of ju- 
venile activity and vigour; and yet are indiscrimi- 
nately mixed in the ranks, with much younger and abler 
associates. 

There is a season of life, when our ductile natures may 
be most easily bent to new habits ; and when the elas- 
ticity of our musics and animal spirits, is proof against 
the severest pressure. The same is the season, when 
brisk and vigorous action, is luxury, rather than fa- 
tigue; and what we are prone to, by the impulse of 
nature, even when duty points to repose. The ima- 



HO 

ginarion also, is then powerfully impressed by the 
charms of novelty, in every employment ; and syrn^ 
pathies of all kinds, but especially in bold and ardent 
pursuits, have an irresistible influence. If man at 
such a season of life, has peculiar animal qualifications 
for a soldier, much more for a volunteer. If he be 
fit for gradual and permanent, much more for sudden 
and unaccustomed, service in war ; and especially if that 
service be of a brisk, active, and laborious kind. 

This season is early manhood. It may vary greatly as 
to age, in different constitutions ; but its limits, I con- 
ceive, are in general those of the French conscription ; 
namely, from eighteen to twenty-five. Some of these 
qualities, indeed, belong also to our boyhood, and some 
of them may be unimpaired at thirty; but I speak of a 
time when the body has nearly, or fully acquired its ma- 
turity of strength, without any diminution of juvenile 
spirits. 

And here, though it may lead me to digress a little, 
and upon a subject with which I have no professional 
acquaintance, I will not suppress an opinion, that; 
France owes her military success, in great measure % to 
the youth of her soldiers. 

It is a common remark, among those who have had 
the misfortune to see much of the French armies, that 
they are almost entirely composed of striplings, or very 
young men. And indeed how can the case be otherwise ? 
The slaughter of the sanguinary wars that have raged 
since 1792, must have left few veterans now remain- 
ing, who had served under their lawful sovereign ; and 
the requisitions, now called conscriptions, by which 
such immense armies have since been annually raised, 
have not vet comprised a single man above the age of 



12-1 

twenty-five. Reckoning, therefore, from 1792> when 
that system began, the oldest soldier produced by it 
has not yet attained forty ; while an eqeal number at 
least, even of the earliest requisition, must be seven 
years younger. But supposing equal numbers to have 
been raised by it in each year, and to have comprized 
an equal proportion of men of every age, from eighteen 
to twenty-five, it would follow, that a majority of 
the whole, if living, would now be under twenty-nine. 
The classes, however, who have served the greatest 
number of years, must, cceteris paribus, have been the 
most reduced by losses in action, and other casualties of 
war. Supposing, therefore, that in respect of natural 
causes of mortality, the chance of a youth of eighteen, to 
be found alive- at the distance of fourteen years, only 
equals that of a man of twenty-five, it is plain that the 
surviving conscripts, of a later, must be far more numer- 
ous than those of an earlier requisition. 

Soldiers thus raised, have a right to be discharged, as I 
appuehend, when they have passed their twenty-fifth 
year ; but since it is probably aright not much respected 
in time of war, I will take credit for little or no diminu- 
tion in the relative numbers of old and new conscripts 
on this account. 

But there remains another consideration of great im- 
portance ; for it is evident, that each successive con- 
scription, if impartially made, must include a larger 
proportion than the preceding one, Of men in the earliest 
stage of the Kmkfed time of life. Sunposing the last 
year's icvy, for instance, to have been universal, there could 
be no cor scripts of the present year, returned emi- 
grants excepted, but such as have attained the age of 



122 

eighteen, since the conscription of 1805; and con- 
sequently, whatever portion of the people may be ac- 
tually conscribed, unless there be a partial exemption 
of the younger classes, which we have no reason what- 
ever to suppose, each successive levy under this system, 
while it is annually used, must produce a much greater 
proportion of soldiers of eighteen, than of any other age. 
But eighteen is probably found an age too early, in 
many constitutions, for maturity of growth and strength ; 
and therefore I presume it is, that in the last conscrip- 
tion of 80,000 men, for service in the present year, 
Napoleon has required that they shall all be of the age of 
twenty, and no more. 

On the whole, it seems not too much to conclude, that 
while the French army comprises very few soldiers who 
have attained forty, a great majority of the 600,000 men, 
of which it is said to consist, are under twenty-five. 

Unless this extraordinary circumstance in the consti- 
tution of the armies of France, can be regarded as of a 
neutral or indifferent kind in war, it must be admitted 
to have favoured their success ; for we have wonders 
enough to account, for in their achievements, without 
supposing that so striking a physical peculiarity, was a 
disadvantage to be overcome. 

In this respect, the composition of every army which 
they have conquered, has been very different. The 
Austrian and Prussian battalions, which they have so 
strangely overwhelmed, the lar.ter especially, contained 
a large proportion of old or middle aged soldiers. Per- 
haps, with equal numbers to the French, they could 
have counted twice as many years. The same, I apprc- 



123 

hend, has been the case with such Russian armies, as 
have been chiefly engaged in these disastrous wars. 

The British army, from its fatal employment in the 
West Indies, has, alas ! not much longevity. A great 
part of it has been formed during the last and present 
war, by very young recruits; and this circumstance 
also seems, when we regard the success of our arm?, 
rather to support, than oppose, the conclusion to which 
I reason. I am far from ascribing indeed, to the youth 
of our soldiery alone, the failure of the enemy's fortune 
in the field, when opposed to British battalions. The 
gallantry of our officers and troops, and their hereditary 
sense of superiority to our insolent neighbours, might 
sufficiently account for it. But the army of Egypt, I 
apprehend, had but a small proportion of veterans in 
the ranks ; and the brave corps which so well sustained 
the military fame of their country at Maida, were chiefly 
composed of very young men. 

I am aware that it has the air of heresy in the science 
of war, to regard men who have but just emerged from 
boyhood, as an overmatch for veterans in the field. 
But if there be any truth in the preceding observations, 
this is not merely an opinion ; it is a fact ; and the busi- 
ness is, not to prove, but to explain it. The young sol- 
diery of France, have, in fact, triumphed over the vete- 
ran troops of their continental enemies. 

Innumerable attempts have been made at different 
times, and in reference to the various disasters of our 
Allies, to account for this uniform success of the enemy, 
by the treason of generals, the disaffection of troops, 
and by accidents of various kinds ; but the solution* 
are all cither inadequate, or highly incredible y as weU 



1S4 

as inconsistent with each other. Let us try then whether 
this very disparity of age between the soldiers of the 
contending armies, may not, in spite of old received no - 
tions, go far to explain the whole. 

Buonaparte, and other French generals, have re- 
peatedly spoken of the old tactics with contempt ; and 
it is at length become fashionable, with those who 
have, as well as with those who have not, some little 
knowledge qf the subject, to cry down the old art of 
war. We begin to look back on Marlborough and 
Turenne as drivellers, who did nothing great in com- 
parison with what they might have effected ; but spent 
half an age, in slowly attaining, what ought to have 
been the work of a month. If, however, Marlborough 
or Turenne had commanded the youthful revolutionary 
armies of France, I cannot help thinking that they 
would have discovered the same new methods of war- 
fare, which so man\ French generals have practise^, 
and used them with equal success : for great comman- 
ders in all ages, seem to have been men of strong natu- 
ral parts, who triumphed, not by a pedantic adhe- 
rence to established rules ; but by the application of 
plain common sense, to the circumstances in which 
they were placed. It was, I conceive, not difficult to 
discover that the cautious and dilatory system formerly 
in vogue, was not fit for those inexhaustible multitudes 
of ardent young soldiers, whom France in the delirium 
of her enthusiasm for liberty, poured forth upon her 
enemies. 

The situation of the Republic, at the first, prescribed 
impetuous and decisive operations 5 and what was per- 
haps then but a daring and necessary effort, became 



its 

afterwards from its signal success, an established new" 
system of war. Without depreciating the value of the 
discovery, it may with probability be supposed to have 
been, like many others, of great importance, the result 
of accident, rather than design. Buonaparte's genius 
may possibly be as great as his fortune ; but the new 
tactics, were Moreau's before they were Buonaparte's, 
and Pichegru's before they were Moreau's. 

All I wish to establish however is, that the success 
of this new system, has been promoted by the peculiar 
and advantageous circumstance in question, the youth 
of the French soldiers. A Frenchman, from the viva- 
city of his nature, has a juvenile impetuosity even in 
sober manhood. How much more when sent into 
the field between 1 8 and 25 ! With such a soldiery it 
might have be*n difficult to sit down to sieges and 
blockades, or cautiously to watch the movements of 
an enemy, as on a chess board, through a tedious cam- 
paign ; but it was easy to overwhelm him at once, by a 
rapid march, and an impetuous attack. 

One of the greatest advantages of this grand physical 
distinction, is the capacity which young men have of sus- 
taining for a long time, with far less inconvenience than 
their seniors, an excess of violent exercise -, and of this 
Buonaparte has availed himself beyond any of his pre- 
decessors. It is perhaps the chief source of his supe- 
riority to them in brilliant achievements. His asto- 
nishing march over Mount Cenis into the plains of 
Italy ; his still more rapid advance from Boulogne to 
Bavaria and Ulm ; what were they, but wonders per- 
formed by youthful alacrity and vigour. His enemies, 
were taken by surprise, and ruined, because they thought 



125 

such marches impossible ; and so they would really 
have been, to elderly or middle aged soldiers. 

By the same means, he has been able to make the 
fruits of a victory decisive, and the rout of an enemy 
irretrievable, beyond all former example. Not to men- 
tion the celerity of his movements after the capitula- 
tion of Ulm, .the late unprecedented fate of the Prus- 
sian army, subsequent to the battle of Aucrstadt, affords 
too strong an instance of it. 

I have already touched on that painful subject ; and 
if more need be offered to illustrate, the physical dispa- 
rity between the pursuers and the pursued, let General 
Blucher's narrative be read. He docs not indeed re- 
mark, that his veteran soldiers were opposed to much 
younger men ; but the remark is needless. We find, 
that though traversing a friendly country, his soldiers 
were fainting with fatigue and hunger, and dropping, by 
fifties at a time, on the road ; so that at last he brought 
but a remnant of his original force in miserable plight to 
Lubeck ; while his more vigorous pursuers,followed close 
at his heels, passed as enemies through the same country 
which he had previously exhausted, arrived in full force 
almost at the same moment with him on the coast of the 
Baltic, and in such unimpaired spirits, as to storm his 
batteries before they halted. The contradictions pub- 
licly given to this narrative by the enemy, certainly de- 
serve little confidence : otherwise they would greatly 
strengthen these remarks. But thus much cannot be 
denied — that the French had marched as many miles as 
the Prussians— that they must have set off with as little 
food, or else have been more encumbered on the way ; 
and that a friendly territory, in which General Blucher, 



127 

by spreading his army over a circumference of thirty 
miles, could hardly obtain refreshment, could not a few 
hours after, have yielded greater relief to his enemies. 
Let it be observed too, that the brave old General speaks, 
in the highest terms, of the resolution and patience 
of his troops. They did therefore all that they could. 

Something, I admit, should be allowed in this case* 
for the difference between the elation of victory, and 
the dejection of defeat j but no man of 50, or even 40 f 
who remembers his own bodily powers and spirits at 
25, will be at a loss for a more adequate cause of this 
disparity, between the young, conscripts of Buonaparte, 
and the veterans of Frederick the Great. 

How different was the case with Moreau, in hi* 
famous retreat before the Archduke Charles, in the 
campaign of 1796 ? He had to make his way through 
a hostile country, from the Danube to the Rhine, by a 
most difficult rout of three hundred miles in length ; 
and yet effected it with so little loss, that the retreat 
was held to be more glorious than a conquest. Yet 
nothing is recorded of that exploit, that may not be 
fully explained by the same bodily superiority of his 
troops. He made forced marches of such length, and 
with such extreme perseverance, as baffled all the ef- 
forts of his enemies. 

Whether, therefore, in advancing of retreating, our 
enemies triumph by the juvenility of their soldiers. 
Their innovations on the old system of war, are calcu- 
lated to make the most of this advantage. They have 
wisely turned war. from a minuet into a race; for they 
are sure that their veteran enemies, will be first out of 
breath. 



mi 

Nor is the same superiority unfelt in the field of 
battle. No man has as much active or animal courage 
at 45, as he had at 21. The passive courage of the 
veteran, it is true, may be increased, ratf*r than 
diminished by experience • that is-, he may stand longer 
motionless tinder a cannonade, or the fire of musquetry ; 
and be more coolly obedient to orders, and observant 
of discipline. Hence also the old tactics suited him 
perhaps better than the new. But now, the steadiness o* 
troops alone will not suffice ; their strength, and spirits, 
are tried to the uttermost, by brisk, persevering? 
and reiterated attacks; new troops are brought up 
from distant quaters, with such rapidity, that they 
arrive before they were known to be on the march; 
and the bayonet, is employed with a frequency former- 
ly unknown. Sometimes, it is brought into action 
late in a hard fought day ; and when a line of steady 
veterans are already fatigued, and nearly exhausted, by a 
long continued engagement, they are suddenly assailed 
with that formidable weapon. At the battle of Marengo, 
victory long hovered in suspense ; and the Austrians, 
after many hours of brave and arduous conflict, were 
about, perhaps, to reap the fruits of their persever- 
ance, when the same young soldiers, who had lately 
rushed from Dijon across the Alps, charged them 
vigorously with the bayonet, and the fate of Europe 
was decided. 

To what extent these reflections are liable to contro-< 
versy, I known not. They seem to me, to rest upon 
plain reason, and acknowledged fact.— But if any man 
doubt, whether the youth of a soldier be a greats 
advantage under the new system of war, when he li 



m 

Apposed to a well disciplined veteran ; at least it will 
be universally admitted, that the young are far better 
qualified to form new habits., and sustain unaccustom- 
ed hafl&hips, than the old. There is in this view, if in 
no other, an undeniable, importance in the age of our 
volunteers. A man who has been in the army thirty 
years, may be as hardy, though not so agile or vigor- 
ous, as his younger comrade j but if two men, of dif- 
ferent ages are to be taken at once from the tender 
habits of domestic life, and exposed to the toils of a 
eompaign, who can hesitate to say, that the younger, 
is likely best to sustain the trying effects of the tran-* 
sition ? 

Let it be fairly considered, how extreme the contrast 
would be, between the duties to which a volunteer, 
in the event of invasion, would be summoned; and 
the ordinary habits, of a man who has always resided 
in the bosom of his family, in a commercial Town 
or City. Even to young men, if used to the com- 
forts commonly enjoyed by the middle ranks of 
Englishmen, the change would be painful enough ; 
but to sustain, for a few days or weeks, hardships 
before unknown, would be to them, if not an easy, 
at least a practicable task. Not so to a man who 
has passed his prime, without having ever learned 
,to bear the inconveniences of v/et clothes, bad lodgings 
watching, fatigue, and the other sufferings incident 
to a military life. The sense of honour, or fear 
of shame, might indeed goad him on, to endure them 
for a while : .but he would soon be reduced to an ab- 
solute incapacity of further perseverance. He might 
continue his march, or stand under arms a second day, 

K 



130 

or a third perhaps : but at length would be obliged 
however reluctantly, to ask leave to retire, or sink 
under the weight of his sufferings. 

Nor would the loss of the service of such feeble soldiers, 
be the only ill consequence of their involuntary failure. 
The years, and the situations in life, which unfit them 
for active service, naturally give them more influence in 
the corps to which they belong, than younger mem- 
bers j and an example, the necessity of which might 
however painfully felt by themselves, be equivocal in 
the eyes of others, would have a contagious effect. 
They would at first retard the corps by their langour, 
and afterwards dishearten it by their defection. 

On the whole therefore, I conclude, that those truly 
patriotic and valuable establishments, our Volunteer 
corps, are as now constituted, from the ages and 
confirmed habits of many of their members, as well 
as from some existing defects of a remediable kind, 
which have been noticed by others, a species of force 
not well qualified to repel, by laborious and persevering 
efforts, the impetuous armies of France. 

After all, have we effective soldiers, regular or irregu- 
lar, sufficient in point of numbers, to make the country 
perfectly safe against a powerful invasion ? 

The volunteers, much more than the regulars, are 
dispersed in every part of the island ; and no great pro- 
portion of them could be convened at any given point, 
soon enough to stop the progress of an enemy, who 
might land on our eastern or southern coast, 
before he could become master of London. Besides, 
the defects which I have just been stating, would be 
found peculiarly fatal, if such troops were to be marched 



from distant parts of the island;, immediately prior to 
their being brought into action. 

Of the volunteers now enrolled throughout the king- 
dom, a great many are certainly, in point of discipline 
as well as bodily qualifications^ unfit for actual service ; 
and a large proportion even of those who are returned as 
effective, will not be found so upon trial ? — It is too 
common, I fear, to keep every member on the effective 
list, who has once exercised with the corps in battalion 
upon an inspection or general muster -, though perhaps, 
he never was perfect even in his manual exercise, and has 
forgot the little he once learned of it. These undiscip- 
lined effectives too, are, it is probable, increasing very 
rapidly, in almost every corps not receiving pay, though 
their nominal force remains undiminished, 

Without enlarging on this subject, I will hazard an 
opinion, that there are not 50,000 volunteers in the 
whole island, now ready to take the field, and fit to act 
against an enemy ; yet were there six times as many, 
it might be difficult to draw together two armies of 
that amount, in time to make a first, and second stand, 
for the existence of their country* Supposing a battle 
to be lost, and London in the hands of the invaders, 
the subsequent junction of volunteers, who are scattered 
over the whole face of the islanid, would be no easy work. 
With a most active and energetic enemy in the centre, 
the communications between the east and the v/est, 
the north and the south, of the island, would not be 
long open. The hope, therefore, of further resistance, 
would depend, not merely on our having enough of 
effective volunteers, to form a powerful reserve, but on 
their being sufficiently numerous, to make head in 

Kg 



132 

different parts of the country at the same moment, and 
fight their way ia large bodies to a general rendezvous, 
though opposed by powerful detachments. 

If it be objected, that these calculations are founded 
on an assumption that we should be taken by surprise ; 
I answer, that our notiee of an- approaching invasion 
would probably be extremely short, and quite insuffi- 
cient for the purpose of embodying our volunteers 
throughout the island, prior to the actual descent. 
The means of suddenly embarking a large army at 
Boulogne, are continually at the enemy's command. 
The only requiste for invasion, therefore, which, unless 
he trusts to the flotilla alone, he must provide by new- 
expedients, is a convoying fleet : and, this, as has been 
already shewn, he may very possibly obtain by a pre- 
concerted junction of different squadrons off that or 
some neighbouring port. But the only probable means 
of so obtaining a temporary superiority in the channel 
are so far from being inconsistent with secrecy, that 
they necessarily imply that quality ; nor would the 
opportunity when found, admit of any delay. It 
seems not unlikely, therefore, that the same day would 
bring us advice that the blockade of Boulogne was 
raised by a strong hostile fleet, and that the troops 
were beginning to embark : nor is it impossible, that 
the flotilla might be already on our coast, before the 
danger could be announced by government, at any great 
distance from London. 

What then is to done in order to prepare effectually 
against the danger of such a surprise, with our present 
means of interior defence ? Are the volunteers to be call- 
ed from their homes, and marched into distant parts of 



233 

the kingdom, there to be formed into armies, on every 
alarm? The repetition of such costly and vexatious, 
means of preparation, would soon exhaust both the 
purse and the patience of the country. Besides, since 
the danger must always be imminent as long as a large 
army is encamped within sight of our coasts, 
and the most specious indications of an imme- 
diate intention to embark, could be easily made, the 
enemy, if he found he could reduce us to such costly 
defensive expedients, would take care we should have 
alarms enough to harrass our volunteers prior to an ac- 
tual attempt. It is plain then, that forces which are to be 
assembled from many different districts of the kingdom, 
at the expence of every branch of civil industry, as well 
as of domestic comfort, must probably be, for the most 
part, unembodied when the enemy is on his way to our 
shores. 

What is the practical conclusion from these remarks ? 
That the volunteers ought to be disbanded, or discou- 
raged ? — far from it — that their numbers ought to be 
very greatly increased, and their discipline improved. 
But that if this cannot be effected, some other means 
must be found, to cover the country more abundantly 
with armed citizens, fully prepared for its defence. 

The danger of a surprise will obviously be less formi- 
dable, the mischief of losing a battle less irreparable, 
the power of assembling new armies even after the less 
of the capital, less difficult, in proportion as our vo- 
lunteers, or other defensive forces, become more abun- 
dant. But there is another consideration of great 
weight, which we need not disdain to learn from 
Buonaparte. In a late decree or proclamation for mul- 



134 

tiplying still further his forces by new conscriptions, 
he observes, that while the objects of the war are better 
secured by increasing the amount of the forces cm- 
ployed in it, war itself becomes less sanguinary, to the. 
party who has a great superiority in numbers j resist- 
ance being speedily subdued, and the horrors of a 
long protracted contest avoided. The justice of the 
doctrine, as applied to his own cnterprizes, may indeed 
well be doubted; because he extends his operations, 
and his ambitious designs, in proportion to the mag- 
nitude of the force which he progressively acquires. 
But if applied to a war, the field and object of which 
are limited, and especially to a war of interior defence, 
the remark is undeniably true. The greater there- 
fore the amount of our defensive force, regular or irregu- 
lar, the less of British blood will be shed in the event of 
an invasion, while the dreadful issue of a foreign yoke 
will be the more certainly averted. 

Besides, a feeble, and barely adequate preparation, 
though it might serve to repel, would not prevent inva- 
sion ; and our country must be redeemed at a painful cost, 
though far inferior to the unspeakable value of the 
pledge, if we had to combat a powerful French army on 
British ground, with the arms of our volunteers. On 
the contrary, if the people were generally armed in de-? 
fence of the country, few or none might have to bleed 
for it. The enemy, in all probability, would not dare 
to assail, on their own soil, a whole nation of soldiers. 
But if he should act with such temerity, he would be 
repulsed with an overwhelming energy, that would for 
ever preclude a renewal of the mischievous attempt. 

W$" too itself might be shortened by such decisive. 



135 

preparations. The enemy seeing that we are not to be 

conquered, might be glad to give us peace : not such 

a peace as would make him speedily master of our fate ; 
not a peace by which he would add the sea to the 

shores of his tremendous dominion in the old world, 
by ceding to us another colony ©r two in the new ; 
but a peace of real security, and genuine honour : a 
peace by which, in some degree at least, the sad destiny 
of our allies might be repaired, and the bulwarks of 
Europe restored. At present, if we are not strong 
enough at home for a war, much less so for a peace, 
with Buonaparte. If our interior force gives no ade- 
quate protection against him during the present de- 
pression of the French marine, where will be our se- 
curity- on its restitution? and if we arc now not suffi- 
ciently prepared to repel invasion, after three years no- 
tice of the danger, how much less should we be so on a 
sudden recommencement of war, of which the appearance 
of a French fleet on our shores, would, perhaps, give the 
first intimation. 

Were there no other argument against making peace 
at this juncture, a decisive one might be found in the 
present inadequate and declining state of our domestic 
defence. To improve it when the dangers of war shall 
be supposed to have subsided, will neither be so easy 
in respect of the feelings of the people, nor so concilia- 
tory in regard to those of a just reconciled enemy, as to 
be a work fitter for that period, than the present, 

If, after all, any reader be so sanguine as to think 
that we have already enough of military force for our 
protection, let him compare the fatal consequences of 
a mistake on that sidc 3 with the inconveniencies of 



136 

superfluous preparations. Where the evil to be risqued 
is infinite, no preventive means can be excessive, which 
may contribute to lessen the danger. But I am per- 
suaded, that a great majority of the public will require 
no arguments to convince them that our interior defen- 
sive force ought to be improved. They will feel more 
difficulty perhaps on the subject to which I next proceed, 
$hs means of improving it. 

To advance the discipline, meliorate the physical cha- 
racter, and enlarge the number, of our volunteer corps, 
are beyond doubt, the best defensive expedients we can 
possibly resort to, if such improvements can be made. 
That they are in a financial, commercial, and constitu- 
tional view, more desirable than a large increase of our 
regular army, can, I presume, be doubted by nobody $ 
and in a military estimate, they are, I am confident, 
liable to no sound objections, but such as may be 
removed. 

To suppose that these patriotic bands are not capable 
of being made fit for the secure defence of their country, 
because they can have no actual employment in war till 
the event of an invasion, is to adhere to old theories, in 
contempt of the most decisive experience. The French 
officers, are said to express astonishment at our having a 
diffidence in our volunteers on this exploded principle ; 
and so they reasonably may -, for by whom have the most 
brilliant exploits of their own campaigns been performed, 
but by troops that had never seen service ? We our- 
selves, however, might have learnt to correct the old 
prejudice earlier, by our experience in America ; and 
what a glorious refutation was lately given of it by thf 
78th Regiment at Maida ? 



137 

The brave young Scotchmen whb composed that 
eorps, were raised in 1805, and sent to the Mediterra- 
nean in September of that year. Till they landed in 
the Bay of St. Euphemia from Sicily, on the first of 
July last, they had never seen a musket-shot fired in 
actual service ; and yet they confounded by their 
steadiness, as well as by their intrepidity and ardour, 
the bravest battalions of France,* * 



* The following is an extract of a letter, from one of the gallant 
young officers by whom this corps was raised., to his father, a res- 
pectable gentleman in this country. 

16 The light infantry battalion, commanded by Lieutenant 
*< Colonel Kempt, the 7 8t h, Highlanders, and the 81st Regiment 
f* led the attack. We formed line, at about a mile iu front of the 
f* enemy, and advanced in ordinary time, keeping an excellent 
f* line. When arrived within a quarter of a mile of the enemy, 
" we perceived them in three large solid columns, with about 
f 300 cavalry on their right. They advanced, halted and de- 
€e ployed into line with much seeming regularity and steadiness 
f After a halt of about five minutes, they advanced with drums 
" beating and loud shouting," (the latter is an expedient by which 
the French attempt to intimidate their enemies, at the critical 
moment of an attack, and often with great success,) " and at 
'f 200 yards distance, the firing commenced on our right, by the 
ff light infantry battalion The 78th at the same time advanced, 
*.' but without firing, until within 100 yards of them ; when we 
ff commenced and received a heavy fire for aquaiterofan hour. 
f* The enemy then retired : and we charged them four times, but 
« they never would look us in the /ace,— they fled about half a mile, 
<f and we halted to breathe a little, 

" By this time, the 78th had advanced considerably beyond the 
t ( corps on their right and left. The enemy perceiving our situa- 
i( tfon, brought forward their cavalry to charge us, but they could 
f< not make them advance. We were soo i supported by the light 
'* infantry battalion, and 81st regiment, At eigh' c'clcc , a large 
f column of the enemy was perceived on the left iiank of the first 



138 

But the troops who have thus immortalized their 
first attemps in arms, have not been men who 

te line, they having out flanked us by marching along a hollow 
tc way to our left j but the second line had perceived this manceu- 
tc vre, and were prepared for them. Oar regiments individually 
« charged ,- and after three hours very hard fighting, "the enemy 
ei gave way in all quarters. The 78th and Light infantry con- 
«"' tinued the pursuit, until near two o'clock, — The French had 
" about 8000 men in the field, and lhe British army did not exceed 
*' 4?g5 rank and file, as you will perceive by the annexed accurate 
t( statement 

" The Commander in chief, and the whole army, have bestow- 
" ed on the 78th the greatest praise, for their brave conduct j for 
" indeed, nothing on earth, could possilly resist the determined bravery- 
" of our dear lads ; who repeatedly charged, driving every thing before 
<c them. The French troops were mostly Light Infantry, — two 
(C regiments of them were favourite corps of Buonaparte. These 
iC regiments behaved extremely well, and did not retire till nearly 
" the one half were bayoneted." 

Of 950 young men, of whom the 78r.h consisted, more than the 
half were under twenty years of age; and further extracts of the 
same letter, might serve to shew the importance of that quality 
on which I have before remarked, the youth of soldiers, especially 
in* services of hardship and fatigue. During five day* preceding 
an attack in which these youths displayed such extraordinary ardour, 
they were without cover, without any change of cloaths, and with- 
out any better lodging than the bare ground, " we make however," 
adds the writer, "snug little places, with bushes, and weeds, and 
I assure you sleep most comfortably" During two days also they had 
very little food. Let the Volunteer of 40 or 50 consult his own 
experience of the bodily effects of such hardships as he has ever 
known, and then suppose himself to have been in the 78th regiment, 
first sharing the hardships here mentioned for five days, then march- 
ing and fighting, from one in the morning, till two o'clock in the 
afternoon -, and say what would have been his probable share of 
Strength and animation in the battle. If this case proves that the 
country may be safely intrusted to young soldiers, it proves no less 
clearly that they should be also young men. 



159 

at the middle period of life, or when they began to feel 
the infirmities of declining years, were transformed at 
once from citizens into soldiers ; nor men who had -been 
taught by halves, those essential, though soon acquired 
arts, of using their arms, and performing military 
movements. Their want of experience in war, and 
of long habit in the exercises of the camp, have been 
their only defects. But these are also the only 
defects inherent in the constitution of the British volun- 
teers ; and while such defenders of their country can be 
found with the natural requisites of the soldier, I see 
not why they should not be enabled to rival, if they 
found an opportunity in England, the. heroes of Jemappe, 
and of Maida. 

But how, it may be asked, are we to improve the 
physical character and discipline of our Volunteers, and 
at the same time increase their numbers ? In order to 
answer that question, I must look back to the original 
constitution of these corps ; and point out the sources 
of those defects which are at present to be found in 
them. 

If the youth of any country are the fittest to defend 
it in war, they are also the most likely to become its 
voluntary champions. The same feelings which qualify 
them for soldiers, impel them to be the most forward in 
the pursuits of fame; and especially of military glory. 
But our Volunteer corps are of two classes ; the one 
formed prior to the training act of 1803, the other sub- 
sequent to that period -, and both were composed of a 
pretty large mixture of middle aged and elderly men, 
as well as men of delicate habits, from the operation 
of arciftcial causes. The former, were chiefly en- 



140 

rolled in troublesome times, with a view to assisting the 
civil power in the suppression of popular insurrections j 
a purpose in which men above the lower class, and 
who had passed the prime of life, were led to engage, 
chiefly for the sake of promoting the public object 
by their influence and example; considering that as 
there was no danger of their being called into any service 
far beyond the limits of the town in which they 
resided, they should be exposed to no very inconve- 
nient or laborious duties, Yet when the country began 
to be thought in danger from without, such men felt an 
honorary objection to retiring from the corps in which 
they were enrolled, and to the formation of which they 
had contributed. 

The same was a frequent case, in several corps raised 
during the last war, under an alarm of invasion, but 
whose offers of service were then restricted to particular 
districts. 

The great sera, however, of Volunteer institutions was 
the year 1803, when the act for the defence of the 
Country, usually called the Levy in Mass Act, held forth 
to every male between the ages of 17 and 55, the alter- 
native of either serving in a volunteer corps of his own 
choice, or being trained with men of all ranks, in a com- 
pulsory way, in the parish to which he belonged. 

Regard to personal credit, ease, and convenience^ 
now conspired with a sense of honour and patriotism, 
to induce gentlemen, and men above the labouring 
classes, to form volunteer associations, or to enter into 
those which were already formed, in the neighbourhood, 
of their respective abodes. With many, the very cir- 
cumstance which made them unfit for soldiers^ werg 



141 

inducements to such conduct ; for if their constitutions 
were delicate, or incapable of bearing fatigue, they 
naturally expected more consideration and indulgence, 
when commanded by, and associated with, their equals 
and friends, than in the ranks of a parochial mass. 
As volunteers too, they had a certainty of the choice 
of good weather, and convenient hours, for the 
business of the drill. They knew indeed, that by 
volunteering, they might place themselves in a liabi- 
lity so be called out into the field in the event of 
invasion, when perhaps the latter classes, to which they 
would have belonged in the mass, might not have 
been put in requisition : but the nearer and more 
certain inconveniences of the drill, were more formida- 
ble, than the distant and precarious hardships of ser- 
vice agrinst invaders; a service too, under which men 
ofrigh-. feelings, expected that their bodies would be 
powerfully sustained by their minds. The expectation 
was in some degree just; though knowledge of military 
duties, and experience of bodily hardships in general, 
had not taught them its proper limits. Besides, the levy 
in mass act, placed men under fifty, who were unmar- 
ried and had no children less than ten years old, in the 
second class or requisition. These therefore, very little 
increased their chance of actual service, by enrolling 
themselves as volunteers. 

Fashion, and delicacy, soon inclined gentlemen the 
same way, who might have made a different choice; 
for it was perceived, that those who waited for the 
operation of the Act, would find few of their 
own rank in life to keep them in countenance, and 
would have scarcely any other associates in the parish 



242 

trained bands, than menial servants and labourers* 
Other gentlemen, very unfit by years and constitution, 
for military duties, but who had long before inrolled 
themselves in volunteer corps formed at much earlier 
periods, and when their constitutions, perhaps, were 
equal to those very limited services for which they en- 
gaged, felt an honorary repugnance to withdrawing, 
when their corps, at a period of public danger, ex- 
tended its offer of service, as required under the Mass 
Act, to any part of the realm. 

The consequences of these concurring causes was 
that a number ©f volunteers, more than sufficient to 
satisfy the wishes of government at that period, was 
speedily enrolled; but that the proportion of towns- 
men, in comparison, with the more hardy inhabitants 
of the country, of middle aged or elderly men, in pro- 
portion to the young, offender or valetudinary persons 
in proportion to the robust and healthful, and of gentry 
or men above the lowest class, in comparison with the 
peasantry and workmen, was unnaturally and unfortu- 
nately great* Almost the only volunteer corps composed 
wholly, or chiefly of men who were corporeally fit to make 
good soldiers, were those which were put upon pay by 
private subscriptions. The common people, having no 
apprehension of being worse situated, than others, by 
the operation of the act, had scarcely any other motive 
for volunteering. They were, nevertheless, by the per- 
suasion of their superiors, and by the prevailing argu- 
ment, that they soon must be drilled, either by com- 
pulsion or choice, beginning to come forward in many 
places, when it was unfortunately announced, that vo- 
lunteers enough had been found for the defence of the 



14S 

country, and that the Mass Act would not be en- 
forced. 

I have ever regarded it as a great and most unfor- 
tunate error on this occasion, that no attention was 
paid to age, rank, or situation in life ; but to numerical 
sufficiency alone. It was an error, however, which 
took its rise in the Defence Act itself, which, in its 
estimate of the sufficiency of a volunteer force, totally 
disregarded such differences -, even that most important 
one, the distinction between youth and age, in a new 
soldier. When a number of volunteers, between 
seventeen and fifty-five years old, equal to three- 
fourths of the number of men in the first class in any 
district, should be actually enrolled, the King was em- 
powered to suspend, in such district, the operation of 
the Act i so that a volunteer of fifty- five, was regarded 
as an adequate substitute for a man between seventeen 
and thirty. It was thought, perhaps, that volunteers 
might be safely left to appreciate for themselves their 
natural capacity for service ; but this, under the arti- 
ficial circumstances which I have stated, was a fallaci- 
ous reliance -, and besides, if that great master in the 
school of nature, Shakespeare, may be trusted, men 
who are the fittest for military duties, arc very com- 
monly the least willing to perform them. 

In fact, the grand principle which I am so anxious 
to recommend, that by which France has performed 
her wonders in the two last wars, seems hardly to have 
had any place in our scheme of national defence. If 
the youth of men liable to service, determined their 
classification in the mass, it was in a compound ratio 
©fyeajsand domestic relations. The reason of impo- 



144 

sing less public burthens on a married man who hm 
infant children, than on a batchelor, is obvious j but 
there is no case perhaps in which it has less force, than 
in that of a public exigency, which demands our per- 
sonal service for the safety of the realm. At least, how- 
ever, the public, was immoderately sacrificed to the 
private, consideration, when the unmarried man of fifty, 
was placed in the line of service, and of preparation far 
future service, before the married man of twenty or 
seventeen.- 

At the same time, it is right to observe, that the 
probable increase of parochial burthens, was a conside- 
ration of some weight, which, reasonably, perhaps, con- 
trouled to a certain extent, the application of right 
military principles in a general la\tf of that kind. But 
as far as the principle in question was adopted in the 
compulsory clauses of the Mass Bill, it should clearly 
have been extended to the commutation to be accepted 
in volunteer service. Returns, therefore, should have 
been required, of the ages of the men who had 
offered to enroll themselves, and individuals of the first 
class, should not have been exempted from the compul- 
sory effect of the act, unless a competent number of 
men of the same preferable description, offered to serve 
as volunteers. It was not just or politic, that single 
men of twenty or twenty-five should be exempted 
from the inconveniences of the training plan, and left 
in a state of unfitness to serve their country in time of 
need, because married men, of forty-five or fifty, were 
more prompt in their offers of service. 

The course that was taken, has not only given us 
a body of volunteers, inferior in natural qualifications, t$ 



14* 

that which, we might have possessed ; but has thereby 
very greatly tended to prevent the attainment of such 
perfection in discipline, as these defenders of their 
country might have acquired ; and to occasion that 
decline, both in discipline and effective numbers, 
which we have now so much cause to lament. Had 
ycung men only been enrolled in the volunteer corps, 
youthful emulation would have led them to make greater 
-exertions to become expert in the military exercises; 
$nd this spirit would not have been checked by the in- 
conveniences of fatigue or bad weather. " You can^ 
not imagine," (wrote a young volunteer of Ireland, to 
his friend, when on service in the rebellion there) cc what 
fine sport we save had; we have never halted long in 
the same place, but have been marching continually 
in all weathers, and slept on the ground all night." 
The imagination of youth, is an alembic which can ex- 
tract spirits, even from the cold dregs of discomfort. 
The lighter motives for volunteering als®, are pe- 
culiarly felt by youag men ; but I will not particularise 
them, lest I should seem to detract from that manly, 
generous, and patriotic spirit, by which the defenders 
of their country are chiefly actuated. In all these re- 
spects, the volunteer of forty-five is a most unequal 
associate for his comrade of twenty. The stimulus \% 
less with him, the sacrifices infinitely greater. The 
one returns from the drill, or the parade, fatigued and 
disordered, by a portion of exercise, by which the other is 
rather enlivened. The senior, too surely anticipates a cold 
Qr rheumatism, from the effects of wet cloaths at a r$- 

L 



146 

view; while the junior, laughs at his alarms, and escapag 
without any inconvenience. In short, nature, in the 
one case, inclines towards military service - 3 in the other 
case, strongly revolts from it. 

If the elder, or less vigorous members of a corps, were 
induced, by these disparities, to retire, they would, 
at least, do no harm to the cause ; as the loss of 
*uch soldiers would be no subject of regret: but 
this, a false sense of honour, too generally prevents. 
Nor is it pleasant to a man's feelings, when he has been 
reported as an effective soldier, to request to be put 
©n the non-effective list, while his health is apparently 
good. The common expedient, therefore, in such 
cases, has been not to resign, but to withdraw more 
and more from the. meetings of the corps ; till at length 
euch members rarely attend at all, except on extraordi- 
nary occasions. Their example, naturally induces others 
who are less unfit for service, to be very lax in their at- 
tendance, when business or pleasure presents the smallest 
temptation to the fault ; and the younger members at 
length think it quite allowable, and even fashionable, to 
be absent from the ordinary musters. Meantime, emula- 
tion in military exercises, is greatly damped by the same 
cause. The musters and inspections are so thinly at- 
tended, that the corps can no longer make a respectable 
appearance on the parade ; and those who are most ex- 
pert in the usual evolutions, find their merited credit 
lost, through the aukwardness and mistakes of some of 
the other members, who have been absent at previous 
meetings. 



U7 

Having assigned the causes of these great defects in 
the composition of the volunteer corps, it remains to 
suggest some practical means by which they may be. 
remored. 

The chief defect of all, that which consists in the 
insufficiency of the numbers of volunteers of proper 
ages and habits, for our secure defence, can of course 
only be remedied by new enrollments. But the inter-* 
mixture of young and old members, in existing corps, 
which is so great a drawback on the improvement of the 
former in discipline, and likely to ruin their efficiency 
in actual service, is an evil that may be easily corrected. 
Nothing more is necessary, than to distribute the 
members into two or three different classes, according 
to their different, periods of life - 9 and then form them 
into first, second, and third battalions, first, second, 
and third companies, or still smaller divisions, propor- 
tionate to the strength of the corps. Young men would 
then have a fair opportunity to qualify themselves com- 
pletely for actual service, by exercising with men of 
their own age, without being retarded or embarrassed by 
their less expert and less active seniors : and the first di- 
visions of many different corps, might be brigaded toge- 
ther, and taught the more complicated evolutions, on the 
largest scale, with the same important advantage. It would 
soon become discreditable among them to be lax in at- 
tendance, or to be found incorrect in the field; and in the 
event of an invasion, an incorporation of the first bat- 
talions, companies, or divisions of the nearest volunteer 
corps, would oppose to the enemy m army of youthful 



145 

patriots, who, like the heroes of Matda, might, in 
their fiKt military essay, surpass his bravest troops. 

Though this new regulation in our volunteer corps, 
would improve their military character, it weuld not, 
I admit, immediately increase their numbers. It would 
not, however, produce a contrary effect 3 for the 
younger members would be bound more strongly than 
ever by a sense of honour, not to desert the cause of 
their country, when they found themselves peculiarly 
relied upon for its support, and placed, as it were, ir> 
the front line of our domestic defence. Their elders, 
on the other hand, relieved from an arduous and un- s 
equal competition, and placed in their proper stations, 
would no longer have a satisfactory excuse for neglect- 
ing their assumed duties, and absenting themselves en- 
tirely from the parade. They would prepare themselves 
better for the services to which they might be really 
equal. 

It might even not unreasonably be expected, that an 
improvement which would raise the reputation and con- 
sequence of the volunteers in general, would progres- 
sively add to their numbers. 

While, however, I would thus cherish the sponta- 
neous contributions of military spirit, and patriotic sen- 
timent ; while I place the highest value on the volun- 
teer corps, and deprecate every thing which tends to 
their discouragement, I am far from thinking that the 
defence of England, at this awful conjuncture, should 
be left to their arms alone, limited as their efficient force 
now is, in conjunction with our present establishment 



©f militia, and regular troops. Tscre was a time* when, 
by adopting the principle here recommended;, we might 
have had volunteers enough., and of the very best quality, 
A new call from the government and the legislature, per- 
haps, might still induce the youth of the country more 
generally to take up arms. But if not, such a call 
ought to bp enforced by a new compulsory law. 

And here ag&n 3 I will dare to censure both the great 
parties in the state : the administration for being content 
with so very inadequate a measure as the existing Trains 
ing Act ; the opposition, for condemning even that faint 
approach towards vigorous preparation, as a needless 
burthen on the people. 

While France, to use a phrase repeated so often that 
Its awful import has ceased to be felt, is become a 
nation of soldiers, and while she is assiduously im- 
pressing on all her new dominions in Europe, the same 
terrible character, it is truly amazing to hear British 
statesmen condemn, as oppressive or needless, the prin- 
ciple of compulsory service. But it is not less extra- 
ordinary, to find the application of that principle, li- 
mited to a service of twenty-four days in three years* 
Yet this is the utmost effect of the Training Act now 
in force. His Majesty's undoubted prerogative in time 
of actual invasion, is not indeed impaired by this law. 
He may then call for the full service of all his people : 
but in an age when military science has reached such high 
perfection, and when all its instruments, to be 
useful, must be prepared by previous discipline, this 
prerogative would be very ineffectual in the hour of 



no 

danger, if previous measures should not have pafed the 
way forks exercise. The legislature, therefore, steps in to 
prepare the people for performing the most important 
duty of their allegiance in time of need; and sends them 
for twenty-four days to the drill, under parish con- 
stables ! ! Even this is to be done in so slow and pro-, 
gressive a method, that unless the enemy shall be very 
dilatory indeed^ he may sooner provide a marine for the 
invasion of England, than a tenth part of the people of 
England fit for military service, will be thus trained to 
receive him. 

It would be unjust to the minister who proposed this 
law, and who certainly possesses very rare and brilliant 
talents, not to observe, that he himself does not much 
rely on the effect of it for our security ; but looks chief- 
ly to a regular army. — Where, however, is that army at 
present ? I speak in reference, not to his plan for re- 
cruiting it, which seems to be built upon a wise as well 
as liberal principle -, but to the disposition of its exist- 
ing force. If the regular army is to be enlarged, only 
to furnish means of foreign expeditions, and colonial con- 
quests, I see not how the ablest plan for its extension, 
can add to our domestic safety. 

Is it really then thought too much, that Englishmen 
should be obliged to prepare themselves effectually for 
the interior defence of their country ? la what nation^ 
but our own, was it ever doubted, that free men are 
bound to serve the state with their arms, if necessary # 
even in foreign and distant war ? In the freest com-, 
n&mities of Greece., such was the common duty of all 



151 

the citizens. At Rome, even in the utmost plenkuck 
of her liberty, the free citizen who, upon the census, 
refused to take his military oath of inrollment, and to 
march wherever the Roman eagles led him, was sold 
into perpetual slavery, as unworthy to enjoy the free- 
dom of that country, for which he was unwilling to 
fight. 

By the happy effects of our insular situation, and 
maritime strength, aided by that inestimable modern 
defence of Europe, now so fatally subverted, the 
balance of power among nations, we have hitherto held 
in this respect, the richest inheritance of the earth, at 
the cheapest quit rent. Since the decay of the feudal 
system, and its military services, we have not been 
called upon to defend our freedom, perfect and unex- 
ampled, though it is, at the same cost which other na- 
tions have paid, for extending the power, and promoting 
the glory of their tyrants. 

These happy times, however, are passed away, and a 
new state of things, more natural in a world of violence 
and wrong, prescribes to us new duties. Yet still we 
have our citadel amidst the waves ; and blessed be God, 
still possess our ascendancy in point of maritime power. 
We may yet, therefore, retain the best part of our singu- 
lar exemption from the military duties of free men. Fo- 
reign conquest is not necessary to our safety - 3 and there- 
fore no Briton need be required to bear arms, except 
within the borders of his country. 

Are there any men among us who hold even this 
loo much ? If so, they are unworthy of the national 



m 

fclessings they enjoy* and especially unworthy of Brltisk 
liberty. 

If such persons would do less for the service of thcif- 
country, than every other free people have been content? 
to do in similar cases, let them regard with terror 
&t least, if not with edification, the present example of 
France. The system began during her boasted liberty, 
is continued to this hour, and is not likely to bz 
relinquished. There, every man is liable to serve who 
Is of an age for military duties 5 though those between 
18 and 25, alone, have yet been put in requisition, 
Is it fit, that Frenchmen should do and suffer more, to 
overthrow English liberty, than we to preserve it ? — 
And if such a humiliating contrast were decorous 1 is 
it safe ? — It is impossible, that a nation so superior in 
energy to us, should long fail to reduce us to the bond-' 
age we deserve ? No, — it is the general, the inevit- 
able course of human affairs, that a warlike people who 
fink the citizen in the soldier, must give law to their 
unarmed neighbours, Standing armies, however brave 
and faithful, will not long protect a community that; 
trusts to them alone, against a nation of soldiers. 

We may well lament that such a military system as thai 
of France, should have started up again in Europe j and 
that the iron age of arms should revive in the 19th cen-* 
tury j but the regret is unavailing, — as our enemies havs 
set this terrible exampk, we must follow it, or perish. 
Such would be the dilemma, even if these enemies, like 
the subverters of the Roman empire, were rude and Unci- 
vilized in comparison of oyrsdves^ distant from u» m 



H3 

place, and inferior in extent of domnion; how much 
more certainly so, when we have to conflict with a 
power, which rivals us in arts and arms, which looks 
into our harbours, and which can now summon to the 
field, more than half perhaps, of the whole military force 
of Europe, 

But if any Bsiton can be unmoved with the dangers 
that menace his country, I beseech him to remember 
his own. He would not choose it seems to become a 
soldier, to avert all the horrors which would fall upon 
his native land, in the event of its conquest by France* 
But does he suppose, that in that event, he will be 
exempted from military service ? No, — he may rest 
assured, that he would soon be compelled to take up 
arms in the hard service of the conqueror. Si noles 
farms, curres hydropicus. If he will not march as a free 
man, he will have to march as a slave. Buonaparte, who 
has made Batavian and Italian conscripts, will infallibly 
make English conscripts too, whenever he has power* 

Is it supposed he will then have no more use for 
soldiers I He will find it convenient at least, to drain 
our captive land, of its young and ardent spirits* 
as those who are the most likely to break their 
chains. Nor will he want new fields of blood for them, 
wherein they may gather fresh laurels to adorn the brows 
of their master. The vast extent of Russia may find 
long employment for his arms; so may the distant 
regions of the new world; and even Africa, which 
during the late peace, he formed the plan of colonizing' 
and covering with military stations, might furnish a 



154 

copious drain for the juvenile conscripts of England. 
Righteous governor of the world ! who knows, feut it 
may be among the stores of thy retributory justice, al- 
ready so conspicuous in our fate, that the youth of Eng- 
and shall be led captive into that very land, whose hap- 
less children we now cruelly exile and enslave ! 

That our enemy aims at conquering the whole world 
is now abundantly evident. He will long, therefore, 
have new battles to fight, or at least new nations to 
overrun ; and when even the world is his own, the pro- 
vinces of his empire must be kept in awe by military 
force. There is no doubt, therefore, that his system of 
conscription will be as extensive as his conquests ; and it 
will probably be his prudent plan, to transport the levies 
ofc every country into some distant province ; just as he 
sent his unfortunate Polish legions, to employ their free 
born ardour in the slave-war of St. Domingo, 

Should our gallant young men, from 18 to 25, be 
marched in chains, like the conscripts of France, to 
the coast, and embarked for service in the torrid 
zone, or in som§ other distant region, they may be 
indulged, perhaps, with a last embrace of their chaste 
wives, or a last adieu to the dear objects of their first 
affections ; and then, if the pain of leaving such pledges 
in the hands of their licentious masters shall admit of 
any aggravation, it may be found in the thought, that 
by a timely enrollment for the defence of their country, 
all this might have been avoided. How will they then 
execrate those improvident lawgivers and statesmen, who 
indulged their love of ease, at the expence of their civil 
tecuritv ! 



us 

*Thc obvious conclusion from these remarks, is that 
as far as involuntary service may be accessary for 
the full and perfect security of the country, it ought 
without scruple to be exacted. 

How far such a necessity now really extends, it may 
not be easy to determine ; but looking at the present 
situation of Europe, and especially at the population of 
that French Empire, it is surely no immoderate estimate, 
that what France has already done, England cannot 
safely omit. We should at least, go as far in preparati- 
on, as she is gone in practice. While her young 
men from J 8 to 25 are actually serving, our young men 
of the same ages, should at least be preparing to serve. 

I am far however from thinking, that this is the o i 
psrt of our population which ought to be traine 
arms. Every man under forty- five, should be in 
degree prepared to take part in the defence of 
country: but while a moderate share of discipline, 
might be all that the elder classes ould conveniently 
acquire ; the young, ought, with all possible expedition 
and correctness, to learn the whole business of a sol- 
dier. 

Of the specific means, for thus generally arming the 
people, I speak with hesitation and efcffidencej being 
conscious that there may be difficulties which I have 
not sufficiently weighed, and feeling my great incom- 
petency to judge, either in a military or financial view, 
what particular plan is the fittest to adopt. That the 
people should be armed, and that the youth of the 
country should be assiduously prepared for service,- 



156 

plain common sense may suffice to discover ; bue in 
what specific mode, with what gradations, and by v?hat 
persuasory or compulsory means, these great ends may 
be best obtained, are questions on which e^en the 
ablest Field Officer, and best informed Statesman, may 
deliberate with anxiety and doubt. 

At the same time I feel, that to suggest some practi- 
cal ideas, is, in such a case, the fairest way of bringing ab- 
stract principles under review ; and I will therefore in a 
very brief and general way, sketch the outline of a plan, 
not as the best possible application of the principles vhid% 
should be adopted in the defence of the country, but. 
as an example of their actual use, 

First, — The fundamental maxim of the pkfr, shoukj 
be that every man who is of age to bear arms with 
effect, and disabled by no bodily infirmity, should be 
trained, as speedily and as fully as general convenience 
may permit, to the use of arms - s and to all such duties 
©f the soldier, as may be learned without actual service. 
Difference of age, should vary the time, the degree, and 
the manner of preparation ; but the exceptions ground- 
ed on circumstances exterior to bodily fitness for 
service, should be such only as the nearest civil in- 
terests ®f the country, the very first of which is re- 
verence for religion, indispensably require. 

Second. — I conceive the limitation of age should be 
from 17 to 45. Men of a latter period of life, might 
form themselves into, or continue in volunteer corps if 
they pleased $ but should not be constrained to take 
up arms, nor permitted to mix tkemselves with youngs 



tr volunteers 5 unless under such regulations as would 
prerent any prejudice to the corps at large, through 
their unfitness for actual service. 

3d. The men liable t© compulsory training, should 
be divided into three classes, as follows : The first, 
composed wholly of men between seventeen and twen- 
ty-five ; the second, of men from twenty-five to thirty* 
live; the third, of men from thirty-five to forty-five 
years of age. if the classification should be varied in 
any degree, on account of conjugal or parental connec- 
tions, as in the Defence Act of 1803, that principle 
should be admitted only in the two latter classes. The 
proportion of married men under twenty-five, who 
could not, with the aid of their wives, compatibly with 
the public services required from them maintain their 
families, would not be large; and a distinction there- 
fore ought not to be admitted in favour of the married 
of that clas6, which would materially impair the bes€ 
force of the Country. 

4th. Every man of either class, who choses to equip 
himself, and be trained, at {lis own expence as a volun- 
teer, should have liberty so t?o do, and be exempted 
from the compulsory training to which he would other- 
wise be liable, upon enrolling himself in some volun^ 
teer corps now existing, or in some new corps whose 
offers of voluntary service shall have been accepted by 
his Majesty. The present volunteers, should of course 
;have liberty to continue as now incorporated, subject 
only to the new interior arrangement already suggested. 
But it would jxt a point fit to be submitted to the dis- 



m 

cretion of his Majesty, whether they should be recruit** 
cd by new members of the first class; or whether in 
new corps to be formed, any intermixture of that with 
the elder classes, should be permitted* 

By the volunteers however, whether old or new, 
jtnuch stricter regulations must be adopted for enfor^ 
cing frequent meetings, and regular attendance, than 
now in general exist ; nor should there be any relaxa- 
tion of those duties, until upon the most exact inspec- 
tion, all the members shall be reported by a field officer 
to be perfect in their military exercises and discipline. 
By the effect of this rule, members of the same asso- 
ciation would become vigilant inspectors of each others 
regularity and progress - 3 and a man, who by nis negli- 
gence postponed the perfection of the corps, and the 
consequent relaxation of its active duties, being found a 
nuisance to the rest, would either be reformed or ex- 
pelled. A majority of members should have the power 
of expulsion for that cause ; and a volunteer, once ex- 
pelled from his corps, should be obliged to submit to 
compulsory training in his proper district, till being 
perfectly disciplined, he should be" able again to obtain 
admission into the same, or some other corps. 

The Commanders in Chief, or Inspecting Field 
Officers of each district, should prescribe to each parti- 
cular corps of volunteers, the time within which, upon 
pain of being disbanded, and made subject to compul- 
sory training, they should attain the requisite degree 
of discipline, for actual service — Herein, however, 
some regard might be had to the professions, occupa- 



tions, or situations in life of the members : and & 
similarity in these particulars therefore, ought to, and 
would determine, the choice of a corps. The same 
officer ought also to approve their plan, as to times of 
meeting, fines for non-attendance, &c, though these 
might be left, in the first instance to the judgment of 
the corps itself, and might be subject to occasional 
variations, under the inspecting field officer's §anction. 

5th. When the volunteer corp* were thus either 
formed entirely of men of the same class, according to 
the divisions already mentioned, or divided into first, 
second, and third companies, or other denominations, by 
the same rule -, distinctions might and ought to be made, 
in the degree of application and dispatch required from 
different corps and divisions, in qualifying themselves re- 
spectively for service. The youngest class should be al- 
lowed a shorter time for that purpose than the second ; 
and the second than the third. Young men may be ex- 
pected to acquire expertness in the use of arms, and in 
the various movements of a battalion, much easier than 
men of more advanced years ; for which reason, as well 
as because they will be the most efficacious soldiers in 
the field, they ought to be trained with much greater 
dispatch than their seniors. 

6'th. I think that no pay should be allowed to any 
member of a volunteer corps out of the national purse, 
unless when he is called into actual service, or perma- 
nent duty ; though this rule may perhaps admit, and 
require, particular exceptions. Nor should the allow- 
ance for the corporate expences of these corps^ be very 



160 

considerable. The alleviati©n of public burthens in 
this respect, may be an important object; and the petty 
contributions of the members, might be considered as a 
tax paid by men who have property enough to prepare 
themselves for service at their own charge, for the 
superior ease and convenience of their military edu- 
cation. 

Here it may perhaps be objected, that the distinction 
between such volunteering, and compulsory service, is 
merely nominal ; and I admit it to be so ; except in the 
choice of a corps, and accommodation as to the times 
and places of exercise, and in the modes of coercion of 
disicipline. In all other respects, the duties of the 
volunteer, and of his fellow citizens in general, sup- 
posing compulsory enrollments to be necessary for our 
defence, would and ought te^be the same. 

7th. Provision being thus made, if necessary, for 
the improvement and increase of the volunteer insti- 
tutions, the whole mass of the people of proper age for 
service, except such of them as prior to a very early 
period, should produce certificates of their enrollment in 
some volunteer corps, ought to be speedily, but pro- 
gressively, trained and disciplined, so as to fit them for 
actual service. 

What proportion of them should be put in requisi- 
tion, at once, for that purpose, I presume not to deter- 
mine ; but the men of the first class, should in a 
great degree, if not exclusively, be the first selected* 
The mode of compulsion, should, in the first instance^ 
be as mild, and as analogous to the ordinary sanction*, 



|6l 

©f municipal law, as possible. The best course, per^ 
haps, would be the imposition of a small fine, for non- 
attendance, or for any act of insubordination, with a 
progressive increase in its amount on every repetition 
of the offence ; and a discretionary power in this 
respect, should be intrusted to those who may be ap- 
pointed to adjudge such penalties; in order that they 
may be fairly adapted to the fortune, or situation of the 
offender. The last resort against the untractable, after 
repeated convictions, should be cjie sending them to 
some corps of regular troops, to be appointed for re- 
ceiving such refractory persons ; in which they should 
be subject to all the strictness of martial law, until tho- 
roughly qualified for service, 

It would be a convenient and fair expedient, to 
oblige those gentlemen in every district who are too old 
for military duty, and yet not wholly disabled by 
age or infirmities, to act in rotation as Deputy Lieu- 
tenants or Commissioners, for the purpose of adjudging 
fines, allowing excuses, and executing such other judicial 
functions, as the new system might require. It 
would thus become the cluty and interest of almost every 
man in the community, who is capable either of 
military or civil service, to forward the gsand, common 

object as speedily as possible ; for when once the 
people were thoroughly trained, and not till then, all 

these troublesome functions would, for the most part,, 
cease. 

The process of training should be progressive, in 
respect of method, as well as of numbers : at least, 

M 



16% 

fetich should be the case with the younger classes. 
The business of the drill might be conveniently and 
expeditiously learned by every man, in his proper parish 
by the allotment of an adequate portion of time for the 
purpose in each day or week, without calling him from 
his home, so as to deprive him of his domestic comforts; 
but after the manual and platoon exercise were learned, 
the young defenders of their country, might best be 
taught the more complicated business of the regular 
soldier, and initiated in his proper habits, by being 
embodied in battalions or brigades, and employed for a 
certain time exclusively,in the duties of the camp or field. 
Beyond all doubt, the first class ought to take the pre- 
cedence, in thus finishing their military education. 

Ifl may rely on the judgment of those who are best 
qualified to calculate the time necessary for this im- 
portant purpose, it would not be necessary to separate 
our youno- men above three months in the whole from 
their ordinary residence and civil employments, in order 
to make them perfect soldiers 5 by which I mean, as 
perfect as men who have not in the ordinary meaning 
cf the phrase, " seen service," can possibly become. 

Such is the brief outline of my ideas, crude and 
imperfect ones I admit, on this momentous subject. 

I do not overlook the financial and political objec- 
tions, that may be opposed to this, or any other plan 
for a o-eneral armament ; but to state and answer them 
fullv, would be greatly to exceed those bounds which 
must be prescribed to the present work. The best and 
most compendious answer to them all is, that they must 
be surmounted, were they tenfold as strong as they arc*- 



163 

I conceive, however, that this great and ntcessar^ 
effort for the safety of the country, would probably in 
the end, be less expensive than the vexatious and costly 
means that must be employed greatly to increase our 
regular forces : and if there were now any possible cause 
of diffidence in the loyalty of the people at large, which 
I entirely deny, the best way to remove it, is to arm 
them in the national cause. Habits of military subordi- 
nation, are the best correctives of a licentious popular 
spirit. If any man doubt it, let him contemplate the 
conduct of the army and conscripts of France : and this 
not only under Buonaparte, but through every change 
in the government that has succeeded the first revolu- 
tion. Men are taught mechanically by military exer- 
cises, the strength of concentrated power, and the 
utility of obedience ; and they become also attached, 
by new feelings, to that government in whose support 
they are actively engaged. 

I repeat, however, as the short answer to all objec- 
tions which apply to the principle of a general arma- 
ment ; that it is indispensably necessary. Times are ar- 
rived, in which we can find no other sure expedient, to 
avoid a foreign yoke. We must become a nation 

QF SOLDIERS, OR A NATION OF SLAVES, 



IKS END. 



ft Edvards, Printer/ 
Crane-court. Fleet-street, 



1 I 



^SglB 



LIBRARY OF 



CONGRESS 



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